


Sloppy Seconds

by irlmagicalgirl



Category: South Park
Genre: Baseball Craig, Baseball Kenny, Crenny, Kenny has a crush, M/M, Pierced Tongue Craig, Smut, They listen to The Smiths a LOt, This is a roller coaster ride, and smoke a lot of American Spirits, carpool, except the smut is built up to and there are emotions and plot, idek how to tag this, its so insane
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-13 04:33:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10506396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irlmagicalgirl/pseuds/irlmagicalgirl
Summary: Hand me downs, Leftovers, Sloppy secondsGive'm here, give'm hereI don't care where you've beenHow many miles, I still love you--Kenny has had a crush on Craig Tucker since fourth grade. He had a crush on him in middle school. He had a crush on him when they were lower class high schoolers. Between Craig's tendency to hate everyone and everything, and an obstacle named Tweek Tweak, Kenny has had to learn the game of patience...but Junior year has come, and with it, opportunity. Kenny and Craig find themselves sharing a car every day, and by circumstance, find themselves sharing their lives as well.Or: A 3 Chapter ficlet in which two punk ass boys realize that, together, they aren't too punk at all. But no one has to know that.





	1. Part 1

_Fuck you if you love a car for its paint job_  
_Love you if you love a car for the road trips  
-_   _Sloppy Seconds_ , Watsky

**oOo**

At one time in his life, baseball seemed like a horrible idea to Kenny. In fact, baseball seemed like a horrible idea to all of his friends. Little League in South Park was an unabashed shit show. It was too hot during that season, and no one cared except for the parents, and there was no incentive, and no one in North Park could swing a bat (and since no one _cared,_ they played North Park ninety percent of the time), which meant the games were excruciatingly slow. There was no _point,_ and because there was no point, there was also no fun.

And then high school happened.

By some miracle, South Park high school sports retained some relevance. Maybe because they had _real_ funding, and the town was so sport-obsessed anyway, that high school sports were kind of part of their religion. It was the closest thing South Park had to having a bona fide professional sports team in their town, so they made sure it was worth something. If all that ever meant was getting real equipment and getting to play Denver schools, it was good enough.

Despite the dramatic difference between South Park Little League and South Park High School sports, there were still a number people surprised that Kenny decided to join the baseball team. He had no real reason _not_ to. Plenty of people played. In fact, South Park High was small enough of a school that no one even needed to try out. If you wanted to play baseball, you were on the varsity team. Therefore, a decent handful of boys in Kenny's own class played with him. It was just the fact that people didn't expect Kenny to want to be _involved_ in student body activities...unless they involved the bodies of students _._ It was a grave misjudgment. Kenny's tendency to stay in the background had little to do with him _wanting_ to stay uninvolved as much as it had to do with personal inner struggles, and his high levels of perversion had little to do with him being a slut, to use the word he heard so often describe him. Honestly, he thought, he wouldn't be _nearly_ so sex-obsessed if he actually got laid once and a while. It didn't happen as often as his classmates liked to believe it did. Not that he ever steered them in the right direction. Let them think what they wanted to think. It just gave him more opportunities to surprise them.

Kenny didn't dislike sports, and that went for both spectating and participation. His endurance just didn't happen to be very good. He blamed his unshakable smoking habit and poor nutrition. Only half his fault. That was why he quit track, which was a shame, because running fast was one of his greatest physical strengths. He just couldn't do it more than like, once an hour. He never would have survived in football, which was fine for him, because, despite what he told Stan, it was his least favorite sport. Something about it had been tainted for him, and he was glad to have an excuse not to be pressured into playing it.

But baseball. Baseball was an ideal place to hang his hat. It was played in spring, rather than summer as Little League was. Unless you were the pitcher or catcher (which he wasn't), it didn't require a great amount of endurance. He could still show off his speed, and would only have to do so in short bursts. He liked the uniforms. He was actually decent at it, and enjoyed the feeling of the bat hitting the ball. It was a pretty good stress reliever. All of these were acceptable justifications that he gave to anyone wondering why he decided to play. It was convenient for him that he had so justifications as well, because there was no way he was going to tell anyone his _real_ reason for deciding to play.

The ultimate deciding factor was that Craig Tucker was on the team. And Kenny had a strictly Craig Tucker centered mission.

Craig, in Kenny's opinion, had untapped potential as a human (emphasis on _untapped_ ). In fact, Kenny felt that they actually had a lot in common. They were both above bullshit on a very special level. On Kenny's side, he had seen much more of the “real world” than his classmates at a much younger age. After watching people die on your street over bad drug deals, or watching your parents duke it out because there's quite literally nothing to eat, school drama seems to no longer exist. Hell, after personally dying yourself, nothing at all seems that dramatic. And on Craig's side, he was pretty much above it all because he hated almost everyone and everything.

In Kenny's words to himself, he smoked because, one, it couldn't kill him (but it could try), and two, he felt like he had a lot of stress to relieve, and damn if it didn't do the trick. Craig smoked because one, he didn't give a shit, and two, it was a pretty convenient excuse to duck out of any social occasion. Craig had a secret third reason, being that his coffee consumption tripled in early high school, and since he had heard that smoking and coffee went great together, his smoking levels tripled as well. But that was a different matter. The point was, Kenny and Craig both smoked and, in Kenny's opinion, both looked like sexy bad asses doing it, and therefore, they had a lot in common. They were both above the bullshit of life, and they had both been driven to smoke. It didn't matter how they had gotten there, and it didn't matter that Kenny did so in a devil-may-care sort of way versus Craig's stony manner. The point was, they had reached the same destination, and Kenny felt that this meant he and Craig shared something; a kind of unity that set them aside from the rest of their classmates.

Kenny's interest didn't start when Craig started smoking, however. That was just a major catalyst in the situation. It had started years and years prior, when they were in elementary school together. Even back then, Craig had a “no fucks given” sort of attitude. The kid flipped off teachers, for Christ's sake. Even Kenny drew his line before that point. Still, it was commendable in its own right, and Kenny knew even then that he and Craig _had_ to be on a similar wavelength. He had even managed to force his way into being Craig's _field trip buddy_ during their trip to Pioneer Town, just to build up a closer association to the kid, but he had little success. While it was true that they _had_ to hold hands and maintain the buddy system for the majority of the trip, Craig hardly seemed phased by the fact that he had a buddy at all.

It was around this time that Kenny realized that getting close to Craig was going to be a more difficult job than he had planned for. He took a leap of faith and asked him on the field trip something along the lines of, “hey, dude, why don't we hang out more?” To Kenny, it seemed that Craig _had_ to have noticed the similarities he thought they shared.

Craig had looked at him with a certain degree of surprise (at least, as much surprise as Craig allowed himself to present). After all, Kenny wasn't especially vocal in school, and really hadn't spoken over the course of the field trip. That was a personal setback, in retrospect. Nevertheless, Craig's response came flat and cold as anything.

“Because your friends fucking suck, that's why. I hate those guys.”

Kenny shrugged, not seeing any immediate reason to defend his friends in this situation. If Craig hated them, he hated them. There was a good chance he didn't have a reason at all.

“Fair enough,” Kenny had responded. And that was that.

The bad news was that if Craig didn't like Kenny's friends, their chances to hang out together became severely depleted. The _good_ news was that, as fate would have it, Craig never said that he hated _Kenny._ So there was hope. Not so much hope that Kenny was going to switch sides and start hanging out with Craig's gang. It didn't work that way. But there was hope. Kenny had found himself outside the circle of hatred and, somehow, Kenny had decided that this was because Craig _did_ recognize that invisible connection of similarity they shared.

If Kenny was being honest with himself, though, that hand-holding moment in fourth grade had been the most action he had gotten from Craig in seven years. He was a difficult person to reach, but the infatuation did not dwindle. If anything, it grew stronger because of Craig's elusiveness.

And if Kenny had known, way back when he had personally placed bets on an elementary school fight, that _Tweek_ would have been the _biggest_ obstacle standing between he and Craig, he would have offed himself right then and there out of sheer disbelief.

Things really started getting crazy when the town _maniacally_ started shipping Tweek and Craig. That was madness. It just proved to Kenny how dangerous the shipping of two real, living humans could be. It was already bad enough that the girls liked to ship their fantasy alter egos. Once upon a time, Bebe and Wendy had told him that the Pleases and Sparkles Club had actually voted on which of the knights Princess Kenny would be cutest with, and that was just pretend, for the most part. The only reason Kenny got to be informed of such votes was because his occasional gender fluidity and identity as a princess granted him partial access to the Pleases and Sparkles club, but even still, there were just some votes he didn't need to know about.

In any case, the Shipping of Tweek and Craig (so iconic that it was capitalized and turned into a whole chapter in the story of Kenny's life) meant many things. It meant that, once again, the difficulty and complexity of Kenny's pursuit was amplified. Of course, as a child, he didn't know exactly how significant the event was, but as they matured, he recognized its importance. In a place like South Park, rumors and ships did not vanish easily. This meant that the Shipping of Tweek and Craig extended past elementary school, which, in turn meant that all the girls either backed off to maintain the sanctity of the relationship, or gave up hope, assuming that both boys were gay as the day was long. For Kenny, this meant that Craig's chances of _actually_ being gay were higher, and there wasn't a girl in sight that was going to get in the way of his pursuit. That was unless he personally dismantled Tweek and Craig's relationship, but that was never going to happen. Kenny was patient, and he could wait for that sun to set if he had to. Giving up wasn't ever a worthwhile option for a kid who couldn't die. Giving up wasn't in his vocabulary. There was always time.

Tweek and Craig's first run together honestly had not lasted long. They were confused and frustrated by the entire debacle, and though they tried to stay together, it didn't work out. As is the fate of most elementary school relationships. Especially those that start as fake. Much to the chagrin of the girls (and everyone else in South Park at that point), homosexuality did not transcend the fragility of fourth grade romance.

 _However_ , this incident seemed to spark something in the two that caused them to _seriously_ question their sexuality. This marked the time that Kenny truly solidified the connection he believed he and Craig shared. _This_ was when Craig's coffee consumption tripled, therefore causing his smoking habit to triple. _This_ was when Kenny realized that Craig went from “definitely friend worthy,” “challenging,” and “attractive,” to “definitely boyfriend worthy,” “necessary,” and “hot as hell.” This was ninth grade, and it was a pain in the ass.

In ninth grade, Craig developed a legitimate crush on Tweek – one that wasn't prompted by shipping or the town. Nothing but Craig's legitimate apparent interest. Despite the fact that the two were close friends and had actually “dated” in the past (if elementary school counted for _anything_ ), Craig was clueless, and it was evident to their entire class. He started spending _every_ day at Tweek's coffee shop, and _every_ day he stood outside, with or without Tweek, drinking his coffee and smoking his cigarette, cool as he could manage. To most of the town, he looked like a lovesick idiot trying to keep his cool. To Kenny, he looked to be growing into his sexiness, full of promising gay energy. He wasn't worried about Tweek. If anything, Kenny thought to thank him for getting Craig to realize the side of his sexuality that would help him out _and_ cause him to smoke more, leaned up against buildings. That just meant he and Kenny hung out in more similar places.

Though the Tweek situation was helpful in some ways, it was still frustrating. Kenny knew they wouldn't last. They _couldn't_ last. He seemed to be the only one in South Park that could see that from a mile away. The only question had been, _when_ would it stop lasting?

So in ninth grade, Kenny joined baseball. He just had to hang tight and keep close to all the places Craig kept close to, biding his time. This included the baseball field. It was the only sport Craig played, but that was fine, because he was the best at it. Maybe it was because it was the easiest sport for him to be his quiet, stony self and have it really work for him. The kid could play any position in the infield if he wanted to, but he stuck to shortstop, which was just as well; it made him the boss and captain.

Stan was the only other one of Kenny's close friends that played baseball, and Kenny humored him slightly by telling him it was to keep him company, but Stan saw through that in a minute. Kenny had made a nice place for himself in center field – he definitely wasn't afraid of the ball hitting him in the head, so he wasn't afraid to get directly under it, which turned out to be a great way to actually catch the ball. It was also nice that, with Stan's pitching, not many people were hitting the ball to center field anyway. That meant that Kenny had plenty of time in between plays he was involved in to catch his smoker-tainted breath. Unfortunately, the position was what caused Stan to catch on to Kenny's ulterior motives so quickly.

“Hey, dude,” he said as they were walking back to their lockers after practice one day. “I try to catch your eye and say hey to you to make a damn joke every time I get back on the rubber, since we _would_ be directly lined up with each other, but every time I look up at you, you're looking at Craig's ass.”

Kenny shrugged. What reason did he have to conceal anything? “Yeah. Craig has a pretty sweet ass. Too bad you're not next to me in left field. You're really missing out.”

Stan slowly raised a suspicious eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, you were kidding,” Kenny realized. It could be hard to tell with Stan sometimes. “Still true. Sweet ass.”

“You...are incredible,” Stan said.

“Why? I'm not allowed to look?”

“Just tell me Kenny, and be real with me – did you think he had a sweet ass _before_ you joined baseball?”

“Well, yeah.”

“So, you joined the baseball team for him, and _not_ to keep me company?”

Kenny stared at him. “Well, you said it dude, not me.”

Stan gave him a light shove, and Kenny was kind of surprised to see that he actually looked a little annoyed.

“I _cannot_ believe you,” Stan said. “Of all the ridiculous conquests. _Craig_ , of all people.”

“What's the problem? You knew I was bi.”

“That's not the point,” Stan said, turning pink. “You know I don't have a problem with that.”

 _Right, of course, because Kyle's got you turned into a complete closet case._ “So what's the problem then?” Kenny asked.

“He's with Tweek, duh.”

“Oh, don't tell me you're one of those silly shippers, Stanley Marsh. I thought you were above all the that.”

“I'm not – I mean, I _am_ above all that. I'm not a shipper. But they're still a _couple_ , Kenny, and I don't care if your moral compass doesn't point due north. You are not fucking up someone else's relationship. I won't stand for it. The people in this town are good enough at fucking things up on their own.”

Kenny chuckled, unfazed by Stan's lecture. “Oh, ye of little faith. I'm an asshole, but I'm not _that_ big of an asshole. If I fucked them up, that really wouldn't make me look good, would it? I'm riding on the very accurate fact that you pointed out that they'll fuck things up on their own.”

Stan stopped at his locker, but just gave Kenny a look before starting to open it.

“You...you're serious about this, huh?”

“Well, what did you think?”

“I don't know, Kenny! I can never tell when you're being serious about sleeping with someone. You joke like you want to sleep with everyone.”

“Well, of course I _joke_ about wanting to sleep with everyone. That's because I'm only _serious_ about one. Besides, I don't _just_ want to sleep with him, so he doesn't even count anyways.”

Stan raised both eyebrows. “This is...brand new information. How...how _long_ had this been going on anyway? I mean, before baseball season at least.”

Kenny shrugged. “I don't know, man. Like since we were...eight? Nine? Though to be honest, I thought I just, like, _really_ fucking wanted to be the kid's friend because I thought we had some stupid, deep, spiritual connection. I probably _actually_ caught on in like...I don't know, middle school probably? And then I like... _really_ , you know...fell on my ass like...well, sometime in the past year.”

“ _Shit_ on a _brick_ ,” Stan said, taking off his hat and running a hand through his hair. “Since _fourth grade?_ Damn. Well...like...why? We've always hated Craig and those guys. Well, _sometimes_ those guys. But definitely always Craig.”

“No, _you've_ always hated Craig and sometimes those guys. Good news, he hates you guys back, by the way. Thanks for making my life's work harder. Although I'm gunna be honest, if it wasn't so damn hard, I probably would only be half as interested.”

“But...Craig is so...,” Stan startled, still baffled beyond all reason.

“I _know_ Craig is 'so.' Everything that Craig is _so_ is why I like him. The fuck off attitude, and the way he's totally transcended bullshit, and the way he's good at a lot of things but literally could care less and _still_ continues to be good, and the way he leans on building and smokes like he's got a fucking reason to. And his stupid, deep, deadpan voice. And he's got a sweet ass. And he's into dudes which, by law, makes him that much hotter to me. And before you start in on how stupid he is, let me just say that I think Animals Close-up With a Wide-Angle Lens was a stroke of genius.”

“I...can't believe it. You really _did_ fall on your ass,” Stan said honestly. “I mean, I kind of can't believe none of us _really_ noticed before, but I guess that's just because you joked about banging _everyone._ We kinda just thought you were a slut, I guess.”

“I can still be a slut and not sleep around, Stan. For fucks sake, don't you know anything? I'm a slut for Craig. He just doesn't know it yet. Plus, if you guys had just thought about who I _never_ joked about sleeping with, you'd have figured it out a long time ago probably.”

“Yeah, I suppose so, but we never would have thought of that, honestly.”

“I know, I know. Hey, don't tell Cartman. He's already a shithead, and then he's like, a double fucking shithead when it comes to other peoples' relationships, thinking he's cupid and shit. But I don't care if you tell Kyle. You guys need a distraction anyway.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Stan asked, eyebrows furrowing.

“You know what it means,” Kenny said, getting bored of the topic. “Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow, yeah? I have lots of waiting around to do.”

Stan chuckled. “Yeah, I guess so. Good luck with that then.”

And so Kenny had waited. And waited. And Stan waited with him. And then Kyle waited. They ended up becoming just as invested in the progress as Kenny was himself. While Kyle had once come to baseball games to support his friends, he now found that he was hardly watching the games anymore, and now just watching any contact Kenny had with Craig at all. Anything, he said, was progress, even if Craig was still with Tweek, because that would mean their potential future relationship would have that much of a head start.

And then, after nearly two years of waiting, Kenny's prediction came true. Craig and Tweek's relationship inevitably dismantled. The speculated reasons were whispered throughout school. Craig had become annoyed with Tweek, Tweek was offended that Craig flipped him off, they didn't have time for each other, Tweek insulted Craig's guinea pig, Stripe...the list was long. Kenny wouldn't have been surprised if every one of the rumors was true and the break up had just been the release of toxic tension build up. All Kenny knew was that a relationship could not thrive on the fact that they were the only two queer kids in the school (so they thought – Kenny could name at least five more off the top of his head). Once Craig learned that he had more options, the rest would be easy going.

And so in spring of Junior year, Kenny loyally joined baseball again, knowing that his plan was _finally_ going to start showing results. He had to admit that he had actually been having fun playing baseball and being involved in something for once, but the original point had been to get closer to Single Craig, and Craig finally had the Single title. To make matters worse, if they even _could_ get worse, Craig had pierced his tongue in a sort of odd, relationship rebound kind of response. Craig was the first baseball player Kenny had ever seen with a tongue piercing, which turned out to be a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, Kenny happened to think Craig looked especially hot with a tongue ring. On the other hand, Kenny happened to think _all_ boys looked especially hot with tongue rings. It was a particularly specific kink of his, and he feared it would become a distraction during practice, or even worse, a distraction during conversations. He was just glad Craig's back faced him for the majority of baseball games. While the ass was certainly a distraction on its own, it didn't have anywhere near the amount of power as Craig absentmindedly playing with his tongue had.

Stan was nearly as excited as Kenny was for the first day of baseball practice. Craig had been single for a month. Any earlier moves would have been _too_ early, but the first day of practice was the perfect day to put his long pursuit into overdrive. Kenny attempted a cool wave to Craig, which he returned with an expressionless nod. Better than being flipped off. Or ignored.

He asked Craig to warm up with him, and Craig accepted, but didn't speak after that. He very rarely spoke during practice, unless it was to remind the infield of the play. He took baseball more seriously than anything, probably, Kenny decided. Baseball and guinea pigs. He was a funny kid. Just as suspected, Craig had a habit of playing with the tongue ring, popping it back and forth between his teeth and running it across his bottom lip. Kenny would have bet real money that Craig was unaware that he was playing with the ring, and his absentmindedness made it even more dangerous. After they warmed up together, he was almost glad to go to his outfield spot to cool himself off.

As soon as they broke for their end of practice water break, Kenny's heart began pounding annoyingly hard. He had come up with a new plan of action recently, before Craig and Tweek had even broken up, and he had not been anticipating being able to put it in play so soon, but he had to jump on his opportunity quickly while it still existed. Making his way to Craig, he held his had up to Stan discreetly to signal that he was going in for a kill. Stan, being the unexpectedly useful wingman he was, kept the approaching team members held back and out of Kenny's war path.

“'Sup, Tucker,” Kenny greeted, straining to stay cool. If he had his way, he wouldn't have addressed Craig by his last name, but he had a set, casual order to do things in. Craig looked up at him from where he was putting his glove in his sports bag. He spit out the shell of a sunflower seed.

“ _'Sup_ , McCormick,” Craig greeted back. The way he said it was meant more to mock the way Kenny had greeted him. If _Craig_ had had his way, he most likely wouldn't have used Kenny's last name either.

“How's tricks?” Kenny asked.

“Fine,” Craig replied, pushing his tongue ring past his teeth and back again. The way Craig said it, he really _did_ sound fine, but really, there was no telling.

“That's cool. I was wondering...well, do you think you could do me the _biggest favor_?”

Craig raised his eyebrows expectantly. Kenny wasn't one to ask for favors from anyone, really. Not unless they were part of some ridiculous scheme he and his friends were part of. Even then, he was least likely. Favors and charity were too closely related in his mind. “'Sup?”

“Well, you just got a new car, yeah? And you live like...so damn close to me. I was just wondering if you could like...carpool me home after practice? You don't even have to take me all the way to my house. I can totally walk to my house from yours. If it's cool.”

“Yeah, sure,” Craig replied without hesitation.

“R-really?”

“Sure. Company would be cool.”

It had been far easier than Kenny had expected. Craig hadn't questioned _why_ Kenny suddenly wanted to carpool three years into playing baseball together. He didn't ask how Kenny got home _before_ Craig's acquisition of a car. He simply agreed in flat Craig fashion. _Perfect._

 _“_ Sweet,” Kenny said, still a bit surprised by his success. “Then today is cool?”

Craig nodded like it was nothing until he was packed and left the dugout to lead Kenny to his car. Kenny turned back to look at Stan, giving him a subtle nod of success. Stan replied with nothing but an awed expression. He had been just as worried as Kenny that the plan too many holes.

Craig opened the passenger door for Kenny, which caused both his surprise and love to grow. To call Craig's car _new_ would have been an insult to new cars. It was a worn, robin's egg blue, 1981 Volkswagen Rabbit. New to Craig, and certainly new to Kenny, but not really new by any other stretch of the word. The seats were in fairly good condition, considering the age of the car (unless Kenny had uncommonly low standards for nice cars – that was a high possibility), and there was a Little Tree air freshener hanging off the rear view mirror. It was called Black Ice, which Kenny didn't realize was a scent. It was a bit like cologne, which was a turn on, and Kenny had a slight panic over being turned on by a car. Unless the previous owners smoked, Craig must have already smoked in the car plenty for it to reach the level of smoky musk it had. The cologne air freshener didn't cover it at all, and instead, mixed with it seductively. He could imagine some posh girl, like Wendy, being repulsed by the combination. It reminded him of when he and his friends smoked in middle school and tried too hard to cover up the evidence with Axe. It immediately became his new favorite smell.

“Sorry 'bout the mess,” Craig said when he climbed into the driver's seat. Neither the fact that Kenny had been _bred_ in mess, nor the fact that the car really wasn't messy at all (unless he was counting the smoke and ash tray in the cup holder as mess) seemed to have occurred to him. There was a grocery bag of guinea pig food and an old chemistry test on the floor board and that was pretty much it. The pleasantry of issuing such a common apology for something that really didn't require one was just further verification that he and Craig weren't close. Kenny couldn't imagine Craig apologizing to Tweek for messiness. Then again, Craig had gotten the car _after_ he and Tweek broke up. Just like the tongue ring. All in due time. Kenny had been more than patient so far, and it was finally paying _some_ dividends. All in due time.

Craig started up the car and left the parking lot in relative silence, with the exception of the stereo. The car was too old to have an auxiliary port, or even a CD drive, but it did have a slot for cassettes. There was one inserted, playing the Smiths, which Kenny felt vibed with scent of the car and the strange chemistry between he and Craig. It was too bad Craig didn't smoke clove cigarettes, Kenny decided - not that they were readily available. Cloves and the Smiths would have been an even more killer combination. The kind of smoke that was filling the car was definitely more of a Nirvana vibe, but beggars couldn't be choosers. He was already in Craig's unconventional and kind of perfect car. He was too ahead in the game to start nitpicking.

“Sorry about the music,” Craig muttered. Morrissey was charmingly crooning about bludgeoning his Big Mouth lover. Kenny got the feeling that he wasn't really sorry at all. “The cassette was my dad's car warming present to me. I just keep it in because the FM signal is shit.”

“No, the Smiths are great,” Kenny said truthfully. “Pretty good for like...staring at your ceiling and shit. But I mean, it kind of rounds out your whole car's vibe, too, so it's cool. I like it.”

Craig waited a beat before turning to look at Kenny once he was at a stop light. “Yeah...me too.”

The silence resumed, filled only by Morrissey's continued dramatics. It kind of really did feel right. The drive felt both too short and difficulty long. The silence was almost painful, but it wasn't uncomfortable, so Kenny counted that as a win. He guess it wasn't painful at all for Craig, which was another plus. The music (especially after determining that they both liked it) was also helpful. Kenny almost wouldn't have minded if that was the end of the road in their relationship – daily car rides home, sitting in smoke and listening to the Smiths in an old car. It felt like the car itself had a soul that was on the same wavelength as he and Craig. But that wasn't the endgame goal. Just a fortunate start.

Based on the fact that they had only gotten through two and a half songs, Kenny determined that the ride couldn't have possibly been more than ten minutes, and since the carpooling situation had been Kenny's way of getting to have more conversations with Craig, he reasoned that he needed to put more work in. Again, all in due time. They had every day for the duration of baseball season.

They pulled up to the curb outside of Craig's house and Craig shut the car off. True silence.

“Thanks,” Kenny said.

“Yeah, no problem,” Craig replied, almost voicing emotion. “It was cool to have a passenger.”

“Hey, uh, so, remind me why don't we hang out again?” Kenny asked. “It would make sense, don't you think?”

“Because,” Craig said. “I hate your friends.”

Kenny shrugged. “I didn't ask why you don't hang out with my friends though. Just me. You don't hate me, right?”

Craig made a sound in the back of his throat. “Guess I don't.”

“Then maybe we should chill sometime,” Kenny suggested, hoping he wasn't turning red. That would have killed the entire vibe. “I like the way you spend your free time.”

“Aren't we hanging out now?” Craig asked.

Kenny raised an eyebrow. Was a car ride considered hanging out? Better than nothing, he supposed. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Then I'll keep giving you car rides.”

Kenny had to hold himself back from snorting. “Okay, Craig. See you tomorrow, then. Thanks.”

“See you tomorrow, Kenny.”

As Kenny exited the car, privately celebrating what he decided were little victories, he decided he definitely preferred Craig using his first name.

  
  


 


	2. Part 2

_Show me someone who says they got no baggage_  
 _I'll show you somebody whose got no story_  
 _Nothing gory means no glory, but baby please don't bore me  
-_ _Sloppy Seconds_ , Watsky

**oOo**

The next day at school was extremely ordinary. Kenny wasn't sure what he had expected. He _supposed_ he didn't expect to be best friends forever with Craig after one measly car ride home, but he thought at least a regular conversation wouldn't have been _totally_ out of the question. Still, he and Craig didn't have a single conversation during school that day.

They didn't have one during practice either, though he supposed that was also pretty normal. It was just that _now_ he was hyper aware of Craig, in a way he hadn't even been pre-car ride. All day, if someone had asked him where Craig was, he would have been able to tell them. He had seen him that morning, wearing a maroon Arctic Monkeys shirt, and before he knew it, he was subconsciously on the lookout for maroon. It wasn't like he was stalking Craig, or purposely trying to watch his every move. It was just that, of all the people in the school, Kenny just happened to remember what Craig had been wearing, and so his eye gravitated to maroon naturally. And so, when Butters came to ask Clyde if he had seen Craig at lunch, Kenny was able to jump in and mindlessly answer, “he's third in the lunch line right now,” without even looking up from his own puny peanut butter sandwich.

“Th-thanks, Ken,” Butters said slowly, and both he and Clyde looked at Kenny with a mix of confusion and surprise. Kenny didn't acknowledge it. Sure, he was surprised at himself, too, but that didn't matter. This was his life now. Craig Tucker Devotee. It was a shame they couldn't reproduce, he thought. With their killer blue eyed combo, Craig's Peruvian olive skin, and his own jaw line, they would have had some truly exquisite offspring.

And then the _end_ of practice came, and _Craig_ approached _him_.

“Ready?”

“Aw, you decided you want to keep driving me?” Kenny said. It was a stupid thing to say, but it was lucky he managed to say anything at all. He was still trying to mentally recover from Craig coming up to him in the first place. The full day of no conversation had not prepared him.

“Did I give you the impression that I didn't want to continue?” Craig asked. He almost looked hurt.

“No, not at all. Very welcoming. Just making sure you didn't change your mind and decide you hate me as much as you hate my friends.”

Craig raised an eyebrow. “Fair point. You're good, though.”

_What a fucking miracle_ , Kenny said. Craig hated everyone. To be in the not-hate circle was an honor and a privilege. He wasn't even sure what he had done to earn it.

“You _still_ even hate Stan? Even though we play baseball with him?” Kenny asked as they walked to the parking lot.

“Especially because we play baseball with him.”

“Well that's real fuckin' healthy, seeing as we're a team. I mean, camaraderie and all that shit is whatever, but you'd think it would count for something in a team sport.”

“He pitches,” Craig said simply. “And he's decent at it. He's taking away recognition that I could be getting.”

Kenny couldn't help but laugh. “What do you want to do? Play shortstop and pitch at the same time?”

“Not the point,” Craig said. He was warming up and emotion was finding its way to his voice. “The _point_ is that the shortstop is supposed to be the best player in the infield.”

“Which I won't argue,” Kenny said. Craig _was_ the best, after all. Stan was a decent pitcher, but all around, that was his greatest asset. Truthfully, Craig was probably a better pitcher than Stan, too. The problem was, while you could easily replace Stan with Craig, Stan would never had been able to take over Craig's shortstop position. Kenny was beginning to see the point.

“Right, so shortstop should be the motherfuckin' star. And sometimes they are. But then we play shithead teams that don't swing the fucking bat, and Stan gets some bullshit like nine strikeouts in a row, and no one remembers the shortstop's name, because the other team didn't hit. Not to mention the outfield. You should be pissed, too.”

Kenny shrugged. “Outfield is outfield. I'm just happy to be here. I'm not getting scouted or anything, so I'm cool with however we get our win.”

“...Fair enough. As for me, I fucking hate pitchers. Nothing personal against Stan. Not anymore, I guess. But he's a pitcher, so I hate him.”

“Well...I'm glad you have a reason,” Kenny said, and he really was. It was kind of nice that Craig hated people for real reasons now. “And what about Kyle? Do you hate basketball players, too?”

Craig stopped to consider it. “Well...now that you mention it, yes. But that's a different story. And also not why I hate Kyle. The main reason I hate Broflovski is because he doesn't have a problem with pitchers. And he comes to every game just to watch a damn pitcher.”

Kenny laughed out loud. “Should have guessed. And Cartman?”

Craig looked at him with the most exasperated expression he could manage as they reached the car. “Cartman? _Cartman?_ You really have to ask me why I hate Eric fucking Cartman?”

“...Point taken. Pretend I didn't ask that.”

“Do _you_ even consider him a friend anymore?”

Kenny shrugged. “By default I guess. Who the hell else is he gunna talk to?”

“Well, it's not like it's _your_ job to be sympathetic and talk to him.”

“What can I say? I'm a saint.”

They got in the car and Kenny got out and lit a cigarette as Craig automatically cracked the windows. The previous day, Kenny hadn't been sure what to do. He didn't know if smoking was going to be okay, either socially or for the car, but today he was ready and completely in his element.

“So, we're hanging out again,” Kenny said, taking a leisurely drag. “How do you like them apples?”

“I guess we are,” Craig agreed. He, too, had a cigarette this time, which meant his social guard had to have been let down a little bit.

To Kenny, the way their drive began made him feel as though they had been friends forever, taking car rides together forever. That was how he always felt when he smoked with people. He knew next to nothing about the goth kids, who were just as goth as ever, but when he happened to smoke behind the school at the same time as them, he felt as though they were his people and that he had been hardcore goth his whole life. Say what you would about the health defects of smoking – it did miracles for social situations.

Kenny eyed Craig as he ashed his cigarette out the cracked window with natural fluidity. Smoking was a social miracle, but it was also a social illusion, and at best, really only served as a good ice breaker. He had read a study though that, if you smoked with someone, that person was more likely to trust you and speak to you honestly. It was a study he had found to be true thus far.

“Hey, Craig?”

“Hm?” he acknowledged without taking his eyes off the road. His hand holding the cigarette and the wheel was _so_ natural and cool. He was becoming increasingly attractive at an alarming, breakneck speed. Kenny wondered if he used his tongue ring to play with the end of the cigarette while it was in his mouth. He chased the thought away frantically before it got him in trouble.

“What's your favorite food?”

Craig gave him an incredulous look at the stop sign. “You're...asking me about my favorite food.” It wasn't a question.

“Well, yeah. I've known you forever. It's not like I can ask about your life story, I know everyone's life story in this damn town. But I don't know like...normal, simple shit about you. That's like...step one of being friends, or like...not hating each other at least.”

“Fine, then you go first.”

“ _Okay,_ well, it's not that exciting. This may come as a total surprise to you, but I haven't exactly led a _gourmet_ life.” Craig snorted in amusement. Kenny was glad he was able to evoke _any_ kind of amusement from him. “My first favorite food is...a good taco.”

Craig actually laughed. “A good taco? That's so...basic. Where the hell do you find a good taco in South Park?”

“Well, what did you expect? And you _don't_ find a good taco in South Park. That's why it's so exquisite. You have to go to Casa Bonita, and I've only been like five times in my whole existence, thanks to my friends having actual birthday celebrations. But I guess it's a thing for parents to pay for everyone's birthday meal, so in my lifetime, I've had exactly five plates of free tacos. Granted, the free part probably made them taste better. But still, they were really fucking good. And warm. Don't underestimate the quality of warm food.”

“What's your second favorite?” Craig asked. “You said a good taco was your first. What's the second?”

Kenny was caught of guard. He didn't think Craig had caught him say _first_. “Are you really that interested?”

Craig shrugged, dragging off the cigarette. “Yeah, people always save the weird as shit favorites for the second position. But it's probably actually your first favorite and you just don't wanna sound like a freak.”

Kenny paused. He had a point. He supposed that's what happened when you were so quiet and serious all the time. It turned you into a good listener, and made you better at reading people and seeing through all of their little nuances. “Well, you aren't wrong. The second favorite is cold pizza.”

“Cold pizza? _Cold_ pizza? What the hell kind of favorite food is that? What happened to not underestimating the quality of warm food?”

“Just because warm food is quality doesn't mean that cold food can't be.”

“I guess, but _pizza?_ That shit is perfect when it's warm.”

“Well, look, here's the thing,” Kenny said, trying to decide what the _thing_ was. He had never actually needed to explain his love for cold pizza. He should have practiced. “The thing is, once in a blue moon, we can afford to order a pizza...but when we do that, the pizza needs to feed us for like...three fucking days. So we kinda have to save it, and when it's hot, we're so paranoid about being able to have leftovers, you can't really savor it. And then it's just cold all the other times you have it.”

“You realize you could just re-heat it, right?”

“Ah, but that would require a functional oven or microwave. Casa McCormick has no such features.”

Craig bit at his tongue ring in between his teeth, clearly a bit embarrassed.

“It's cool, though,” Kenny said. “It's minimal effort, doesn't burn your mouth, it doesn't taste as fattening or greasy, it makes a great breakfast, it's easier to eat in bed. It's just the height of convenience, and pretty much the most luxurious meal we ever have at our house, and I just appreciate the aesthetic of it.”

“You _would_ appreciate the aesthetic of a fucking cold pizza slice.”

“Your turn,” Kenny said.

“Fine. Cigarettes and coffee.”

Kenny scoffed. “You asshole, that's not a food. And you have the _nerve_ to sit here and critique my basic taco and cold pizza. What the fuck kind of answer is that?”

“Well, it's my favorite flavor,” Craig said defensively. “You clearly haven't tried coffee and cigarettes together.”

“You're right, I haven't,” Kenny said, rolling his eyes. He didn't necessarily like bringing up his own poverty, but Craig was making it difficult for him to avoid. Besides, they were being honest. “I can't exactly afford to spend money on another stimulant.”

“Well, if you did, you'd agree the taste trumps any fucking food _you've_ ever had. I don't have a favorite food because coffee and cigarettes are so good, I don't think about eating. Besides, sometimes the only thing I consume all day is coffee. _Then_ it _totally_ counts as a food.”

“What's it like, then?”

Craig didn't turn to look at him, but Kenny noticed his eyebrows raise. He seemed to be in Kenny's pizza position; he had probably never needed to describe the taste before.

“It's...like...Okay, so you have at least _tried_ coffee before, right?”

“Once,” Kenny said. Coffee was like an _ultra_ luxury to him, and he didn't figure he needed to be stimulated more than he needed to be relaxed. He could either have cigarettes or coffee; he didn't live in a Craig kind of universe where both were a viable option.

“Right...so think of dragging on a cigarette. It burns your mouth a little in a good way, and it fills your lungs. And then it has an after taste. But coffee – good, strong coffee – has an intense, bitter aftertaste, too. Actually, the aftertastes of coffee and cigarette smoke are really similar. So they kind of...compliment each other. I guess like how people say some wines compliment some foods, but this makes a lot more sense to me. So then you get your first nicotine rush – it's best if it's your first cigarette of the day – and then you get your first _caffeine_ rush, and when you're so used to them both, you might stop noticing the initial rush of _either_ , but _together_ , it's like it all feels like the first time again. And then, since you're getting them together, if you do it right, you kind of feel...like, _buzzed_ for a minute. At least until your body adjusts. It's like you get a head rush, but a really great one. Not the shitty kind when you're like, dehydrated and stand up too fast. It's like it's _own_ drug. If it's just right, it can give you goosebumps. Or I don't know, maybe that's the snow. But it's still part of the experience.”

Kenny was speechless. He said it so...poetically? He had no idea Craig had that kind of passion. It made him feel kind of stupid about his cold pizza justification. He made a mental note to smoke with Craig more often, if that was the kind of dialogue and honesty it got out of him.

“It count as a favorite food now?”

“Yeah, yeah, it counts...,” Kenny said absently.

By the time their food chat had ended, they had made it to Craig's house. As Kenny walked home, he pulled out his severely outdated flip phone and called Stan.

“Hey, dude, you busy? Can you and Kyle do me the biggest fuckin' favor ever and bring me a cup of coffee from Tweek's?”

**oOo**

“Is that your favorite shirt or something?” Craig asked the next week in the dugout as the baseball team waited for practice to start. Each car ride since their first two, Craig grew increasingly social. He and Kenny discussed pets (mostly dominated by the topic of Stripe the Guinea Pig), the fact that their sisters were best friends, a superficial comparison of favorite movies, and how they _really_ felt about about the Smiths cassette (which was a mutual and resounding, “it's pretty fucking sweet”). Between classes, Craig occasional gave Kenny a nod of a greeting, and on the baseball field, he called for the ball when it needed to be thrown in, but the shirt question was the first time he had _actually_ addressed Kenny prior to heading to the parking lot. It was so simple, but Kenny's inner princess was twerking in victory.

Kenny looked down at his shirt as if he had forgotten which one he was wearing. It _was_ his favorite. It was also, perhaps, one of the tackiest things he owned, but to him it was perfect.

“Yeah, it is,” Kenny said.

“Did a rainbow fucking explode on you, what the fuck happened?”

“Well, if you _must_ know,” Kenny started in feigned exasperation, since it _did_ look like a rainbow exploded on him, “it was a gift from Karen.”

“That...was a gift...from Karen?”

It was a Nirvana shirt, complete with the iconic, fucked up smiley face, but colored with intense, neon tie dye.

“Yeah,” Kenny said, looking to the distance. There were layers on layers as to why it was his favorite shirt, and they were layers he seldom explained, and hadn't even fully explained to Karen, worried he'd hurt her feelings if she took everything the wrong way. But he felt that Craig should know.

“It was for my fourteenth birthday. She went to a thrift store, which isn't like...fucking Banana Republic, but for a twelve year old McCormick, anything more than zero dollars is kind of luxury. So she knew I liked Nirvana, which is cool of her, and got me this old Nirvana shirt. But it _was_ white. Karen, being the bitchin' little sister that she is, felt that she needed to contribute something to the shirt to make it a more personal gift, and along with knowing I like Nirvana, she also knew I like shitty nineties fads. You know, ironically.”

“Of course,” Craig said.

“So she tie dyed it. And she was super proud of it. And I honestly loved it. I mean, Nirvana's great and their shirts are cool. I _do_ love the shitty nineties fad of tie dye. I love the ironic fashion faux pas of wearing a trend so out of fashion. And Karen, _bless her,_ ” Kenny said, exaggeratedly, “said to me that, with her tie dye and my genetics, I might be able to actually pass for Kurt Cobain. It was great.”

“But?” Craig said, sensing there was more to the story.

“ _But_ , there was something I didn't tell Karen and never will, because she tried so damn hard to get me a nice shirt. Kurt Cobain himself said, and I quote, that he would _never_ wear tie dye and associate with hippies unless it was made from the urine of Phil Collins and the blood of Jerry Garcia.”

“Damn. Hardcore.”

“I know. So I can't tell Karen that Kurt Cobain hated tie dye. But to me, it doesn't matter. It just makes it better. He didn't wear it because it wasn't punk enough. But what's more punk than not conforming to punk law? I'm not just an anarchist against normal people. I'm an anarchist against my _own_ people, too. I do whatever the fuck I want – that's how punk I am. I'm a punk god. My level of irony is so high, I'm off the fucking punk radar. I'm so punk, Kurt Cobain himself was too much of a piss baby to wear this shirt, so I made it my staple. I wear his logo, soaked in the metaphorical blood he was too ashamed to let grace his perfectly grungy body. So to answer your question, yes. It is my favorite shirt. But now, you're the only person who knows why.”

Craig blinked at him. He was taken rather aback, but Kenny hoped he was impressed on some level. Craig, asshole that he was, _had_ to appreciate irony and snarky punk.

“You have outdone yourself...I like it.”

“I thought you said it looked like a rainbow blew up on me.”

“It does. It's a good look on you.”

Kenny smiled so softly, Craig probably hadn't seen it, and they ran out to their field positions.

**oOo**

The start of that day's car ride was the most relaxed, and it had to be because they had already talked. In fact, their coach had asked Craig to stay a minute after practice as the team captain to discuss the line up, and Craig actually tossed the Volkswagen's keys to Kenny to go start the car up. He was like a new guy. If they didn't have a real conversation while school was in session the next day, Kenny swore he would eat himself.

“So, what's today's question?” Craig asked. His tone was actually light for once, but he had started to get used to Kenny's daily interrogation.

Kenny licked his chapped lips, twirling his cigarette between his fingers before lighting it.

“Easy,” he said after a minute. He already knew what he wanted to ask. He just had to determine whether or not the time was appropriate. _No time like the present._ “What...is your baggage?”

Craig scoffed, the corner of his mouth pulling up. “My _baggage?_ What baggage? I have no baggage.”

“Bullshit. Everyone's got a little baggage. It's not a bad thing exactly. Show me someone who's got no baggage, I'll show you someone who's got to story.”

“Okay, I've got no story,” Craig said, shrugging.

“Like _hell_. You're gunna tell me you lived in South Park your whole life and have no story? You're gunna tell me you went through all that _Peruvian band bullshit_ and you have no story?”

“Point taken, I guess.”

“So? Baggage?”

Something about asking the second time triggered something in Craig. Something in his expression fell.

“My family's been on welfare for a few years now.”

“Okay, _now_ we're getting somewhere,” Kenny said, hoping that his enthusiasm for Craig's honesty wouldn't be confused for enthusiasm for him not having money. “Well, there's another way we're on the same wavelength.”

Craig did not seem to want to continue that particular subject. He added a new bag instead.

“Tweek broke up with _me_. He thought I was bringing him down. He didn't think I was emotionally available. He didn't think I...He didn't think I was worth the time he was shelling out for me.”

_Shit_.

“Well, he should see you now,” Kenny said. “Being all available and shit. I like shelling out my time.”

Craig turned his head and actually smiled at him, but it was a sad smile. Kenny never wanted to see him smile like that again.

Almost half a song went by before either of them spoke again. Finally, without stopping to consider whether or not it was a good idea, Kenny continued the conversation.

“Did you fuck?”

Craig jolted so violently that Kenny thought he might slam on the breaks. He braced himself just in case, but Craig regained his composure quickly.

“ _Excuse_ me?”

Kenny shrugged. He thought Craig might have such a reaction, but really, he didn't think discussing sex life was really all that different than discussing any of the other topics that had come up during their car rides.

“It's a simple question,” Kenny said. “I don't mean anything by it. Just curious.”

Craig kept his eyes glued intently on the road, but it was obvious that his mind was elsewhere.

“Yeah...yeah, we did,” Craig said. “Only...only once.”

Despite temptation to do so, Kenny refrained from asking who topped.

“Did you...regret it?” Kenny asked instead. Based on Craig's expression, it seemed as though the topic wasn't exactly a joyous one.

“No...,” Craig said, but Kenny wasn't convinced. Craig sighed deeply. “It's just...You know all that shit people tell you about how sex should be with the right person?”

“Yeah,” Kenny said. It was a stupid doctrine he had been trying to force himself to follow after his fling with Tammy Warner. All that bullshit with the purity ring was kind of the wrong way to go about it, but finally getting his blowjob from Tammy just made him feel empty in the end. Anyway, that was why everyone thought he was a slut, ironically enough, just as he had told Stan. _Pretending_ to want to fuck everyone kind of took the edge off so you could save it for the one person that was worth it. The funny thing was, if Kenny _had_ been fucking everyone he knew his whole life, he wouldn't talk about it even half as much. What a stupid, ridiculous world it was.

“Well, what they _don't_ tell you is that, even if you have the right person, you may not have the right time.”

_You're tellin' me,_ Kenny thought. Craig had been his “right person” forever, and yet it was the concept of time that was fucking him in the ass instead.

“Tell me more,” Kenny said.

“So...look, obviously Tweek turned out not to be my lifelong right person. I had to date him twice to figure that out, but I eventually figured it out. But at the time, he _was_ the right person. When we started dating, I told myself that, even if we didn't work out, I wouldn't mind like...you know, sleeping with him. But Tweek was always so nervous, it took us forever to actually do it. We didn't have sex until we were almost broken up, actually. He was annoyed with me, he didn't think I gave him enough attention - or the proper attention – and I was upset, and desperate and...I mean, I guess we did it to try to save the relationship. It's so obvious looking back now, but...don't have sex to save a relationship.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” Kenny said softly. It was so odd, since Kenny resented Craig and Tweek's relationship so much for getting in his way, but he actually felt _sad_ for Craig. He thought, if anything, he'd have been glad that their sexual encounter might have been what killed their relationship, but he wasn't. He was just sad for Craig. He wanted Craig's first time to be a good first time, regardless of who it was with. That just proved that first times weren't all they were cracked up to be. If he had his way though, Kenny would make Craig's second to hundredth times perfect.

Craig pulled up to his house but didn't turn the car off right away.

“I don't think...,” Craig swallowed hard before continuing. “I don't even think we were in love anymore when we had sex. I don't know what we were. I don't even know if I could mark the time when we _stopped_ being in love. It was just like...I knew I had wanted it with Tweek when we _started_ dating, but if I had known those were going to be the circumstances, I never would have done it. I don't even remember how it felt. How fucked up is that?”

“Pretty fucked up,” Kenny agreed, nervously running a hand through his hair. “I'm sorry.”

“Not your fault. Nothing that can be done about it now, anyway,” Craig said. It was obvious that all of that had been difficult to relieve, but his shoulders had dropped and his expression relaxed, as if a weight had been lifted form him. “I don't...I don't know why I told you all that.”

“I do,” Kenny said. “You trust me.”

“Do I?” Craig asked skeptically, but Kenny knew that Craig knew it was true. “Yeah, I guess so. Why?”

“I told you. We're on the same wavelength. We're cut from the same cloth, you and I.”

Craig snorted in disbelief. “Why, because I'm on welfare?”

“No, dumbass. We just...we're both aware of life's bullshit, but we're above it. We've been faced with it in different ways, and we've handled it in different ways, but our journeys still led us to the same place.”

“You know, you're smarter than people give you credit for, Kenny.”

“I'm a lot of things that people don't give me credit for. People discount guys like us. It doesn't matter. I don't need credit from people to be how I am.”

Craig turned off the car. “Yeah. I guess you're right. See you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow.”

Kenny got out of the car and jammed his hands in his pockets, not turning to look back once, even though he could practically feel the heat of Craig's eyes boring into his back. He must have watched Kenny until he was out of sight, because he never heard Craig's car door open and close.

**oOo**

“Hey.”

Kenny, his heart nearly leaping out his mouth, shut his locker to see Craig standing behind his locker door. First real in-school contact.

“Hey,” Kenny replied, struggling to keep his voice steady. He was used to talking to Craig at this point, but this was a totally different playing field.

“You wanna get a slushie with me after practice?”

“A slushie?” Kenny asked, eyebrow raised.

“Yeah. I've been craving one. They're really good after practicing. They have them at that 7-11. Since you're gunna be in my car, I figure I need to ask if you wanna go.”

“I – uh, sure. I don't know if I can afford a slushie, but yeah, sure, I'll go with you.” Kenny's heart hammered against his chest so hard, he wouldn't have been surprised if Craig could hear it.

Craig chuckled softly. “Dude, I'll pay for yours, they're only like 70 cents. I just wanna go get a slushie.”

“Oh,” Kenny said. “Then yeah, let's go.”

And that was the end of the first in-school conversation. Kenny struggled all day with whether or not he should count it as Craig asking him on a date, or if getting a slushie even _was_ a date, he decided in the end that the label didn't matter as long as they were going to do something together other than ride in a car together.

Unfortunately, the slushie excursion didn't happen.

Not that day at least.

What happened instead was far more significant, and though Kenny initially counted it as a major misstep, he couldn't deny that it was a great catalyst in his and Craig's relationship – perhaps even more so than getting slushies would have been.

Kenny had been looking forward to the end of practice since Craig brought up the idea, so when the end of practice finally _came,_ he was packed and ready to go faster than he had ever been before.

“Wow,” Craig said flatly. “One would think you've never had a slushie before.”

Kenny looked at him without expression. “That's true, though. I _have_ never had a slushie before.”

“Damn, what the fuck is wrong with you? Never had coffee and cigarettes, never had a slushie...Well, I'm honored to pop your slushie cherry, then.”

Kenny blushed at the thought of Craig popping any of his cherries. _What kind of loser was he?_

“I, uh, actually tried the coffee and cigarette thing.”

“Oh. And?”

“Lethal.”

“Told you.”

They made it to the car as they had every day for two weeks straight, but pulled out of the parking lot in a different direction. The routine deviation threw Kenny off and, in his mind, marked the start of a new era in their relationship. Just as the first car ride had done.

It was one of those quiet car rides, which happened about every two days or so. There was nothing wrong with them at all, especially since they had agreed that the Smiths cassette was flawless. There no longer seemed to be such a thing as _awkward silence_ between them, if there ever had been. In fact, Kenny decided, Craig was probably the only person he had ever known that silences were _never_ awkward with.

Kenny was familiar with the route to the 7-11 - it was near Tom's Rhinoplasty – but he had somehow never been that direction in a car. It was kind of surreal, aside from the fact that, in a town as small as South Park, it was even possible that there existed a street he hadn't driven down. He should have taken it as a bad sign. Danger generally threatened his life when he deviated from the routine so majorly, but that wasn't on his mind. Only Craig was. Craig and his apparent enthusiasm for slushies.

The fact that there was still ice on some parts of the asphalt was completely ludicrous. It was rare for so much black ice to stick around so late into spring. Perhaps Craig had cursed them (and the car) by using an air freshener _called_ Black Ice. So really, there was no way Kenny could have predicted that they would skid on the ice and roll the car down a hill. But he should have.

It happened so quickly, Kenny wasn't even entirely sure _how_ it had happened, or how Craig had even lost control, or what the status of the car was in mid tumble. All he was fully aware of was the Smiths cassette that continued to play.

_To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die...To die by your side, well the pleasure, the privilege is mine._

  
  


  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, do I suck or what?  
> Don't worry, I promise there's a happy ending and everything. It's not what you thiiiink (or maybe it is). It's not as bad as it seems, I swear.
> 
> Please let me know what parts you liked! This is one of my favorite chapters of anything I've written, like, ever, so I'd really really love to hear what you guys thought. 
> 
> Also, I have a tumblr. irlmagicalgirl. Come talk to meeee. I post SP & aesthetic and I have like, no friends in this fandom, so some SP friends would be really killer. Part 3 will be out soon!


	3. Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This concludes my favorite chapter of one of the best things I've ever written.  
> I realize this fic is loosely based and named after Sloppy Seconds by Watsky, but Craig and Kenny listen to so many significant songs by The Smiths. I'm not forcing you, but if you are not already, it would be nice if you familiarized yourself with the following songs: The Boy With the Thorn in His Side, Ask Me, This Charming Man, There is a Light That Never Goes Out (the first three are featured in this chapter and the latter is featured in Part 2). Again, not necessary, but it'll strengthen my symbolism. Also, since The Smiths play continuously during Craig and Kenny's interactions, it may be nice to read with the songs in the background...especially because I wrote this as they played.
> 
> Please enjoy.
> 
> Warnings: Vague/ambiguous suicide mention and explicit scenes

_I don't care where you've been, how many miles, I still love you.  
_ -  _Sloppy Seconds,_ Watsky

**oOo**

One minute, the world was turning black and the Smiths were taunting him.

The next, Kenny was waking up in bed at home, as if nothing had happened.

_Motherfucker._

So he had seen it coming. He _should_ have sensed something bad would happen just because they had taken a new road. _New_ things usually led to _bad_ things. He just hadn't picked up on it until he saw the black ice. Once you've died over a hundred times, you start to recognize situations that will kill you minutes before they even think to kill you. Most times, it's not worth trying to avoid. Not that he could have avoided tumbling down in a hill in Craig's Rabbit. Honestly, Kenny thought, it was a miracle he hadn't died sooner. He had been having a pretty good no-death streak, and certainly hadn't died in the two weeks he had been riding home with Craig. What he had mistaken as Craig being a good omen turned out just to be personal luck. He had been dumb. He should have known that a death was coming.

He shook as he got dressed that morning, pulling on his biggest parka in an attempt to hide his jitters. He was sure – _almost_ entire positive – that Craig would be fine. Or alive. The thing was, Kenny's curse had strange rules, and those rules also had a tendency to be inconsistent. It was clear that Cthulhu had not spent the time to come up with guidelines for every possible instance of death, and because of this, some of Kenny's deaths warped reality in unpredictable ways.

Generally, a reality warp occurred when he died _with_ someone or in close proximity to someone else, exactly like he had died in the car accident with Craig. For instance, there was the time he had died on the roller coaster at Cartmanland. One of the stranger deaths, only because the adrenaline rush paired with the sensation of being impaled was so conflicting. The next day, his classmates told him all about Cartmanland as though he had never gone. He wasn't even included in the photograph they had gotten from the ride's camera. The place where he had sat on the coaster was empty. Sometimes reality made it so that he just avoided scenario that had killed him, and sometimes it was so that he had never been present that day at all. Therefore, it was kind of impossible to predict what was going to happen at school. There was a possibility that Craig had been affected by the crash as well. There was also a possibility that Craig never got in his car at all the day before. He _supposed_ there was also a possibility that Craig had died as well, but he didn't let the thought last in his mind for more than a second. Besides, no one he had ever died with _actually_ died also. It was like if you died with Kenny, you got a second life. The rules were ever changing and unpredictable, but the possibility that things could have gone their worst made Kenny throw up on the way to school, and he decided it was best to not consider that as a possibility at all.

The atmosphere walking into school was a positive sign. Kenny supposed that if Craig (or any student that wasn't him) had died, the energy of his peers wouldn't be so high. Everyone was still going about their business. Tweek and Clyde passed in front of him, and they didn't acknowledge him, but they also didn't look distraught by any means. If Craig had died, or been _seriously_ injured, surely at least Clyde would have been a sobbing mess of a man.

That meant that Kenny just had to figure out what the new version of reality was. That had a tendency to trip him up. People gave you really weird looks if you started talking about a version of reality that they didn't remember. No weirder than the looks you got when you told people you habitually died, though.

“Hey, dude.”

Kenny turned around to see Stan and Kyle walk into school together.

“Hey,” Kenny said. They looked pretty normal, too. They weren't acting like their collective Get Kenny and Craig together plan was failed.

“Hear what happened to Craig?”

Kenny's stomach sank. He had gotten his hopes up too soon. But then why was everyone acting like...whatever it was wasn't such a big deal?

“Wow, we totally thought you would have heard,” Kyle said, taking Kenny's non-reply as unknowing. “Just because you guys have been getting close, like, maybe he'd have texted you.”

 _Well, if he can text, it can't be so bad._.

“Yeah, dude, he got in a car accident yesterday after practice,” Stan said. “What the actual fuck are the chances that the first day you miss school since you two have been riding home together, he gets in a wreck?”

 _What are the chances, indeed_ , Kenny thought. He went through a mental checklist of what he knew so far about the new reality. So he, apparently, had not come to school at all the day before. Way to take the easy way out, Cthulhu. And Craig had still wrecked, but evidently not so bad that he wouldn't be able to text Kenny and tell him what had happened.

“Well, what happened?” Kenny said. “Is he alright?”

“I guess he hydroplaned on the ice,” Kyle said. So that was still the same. “Can you believe there's still ice on the street? What the hell is that all about? Anyway, yeah, I guess he's cool. The car rolled down a hill but it didn't flip or anything.”

“Yeah,” Stan said, “The first response team said it was like an angel protected the car from getting totally fucked up, that's how miraculous it was that everything turned out okay, but I mean, he was probably just lucky.”

Kenny stomach flipped. An angel. Holy shit, maybe he was useful in death after all.

“So...he's okay, then?”

“Yeah, dude, for sure,” Stan said. “Well, alive at least. Not in the hospital or anything. I guess they took him in an ambulance for safety and just to check him out, but he's cool. Don't worry, it's not going to put a damper on your master plan.”

Kenny had nothing to do but nod. It was better than he could have hoped, really, but he still had to _see_ Craig to believe it.

“Don't worry,” Kyle said, reassuringly. “If anything, this'll help you. Be his nurse.”

He winked and gave Kyle a high five.

“Yeah, yeah,” Kenny said, rolling his eyes, though he couldn't say that he hadn't already thought about it.

“Why were you out yesterday?” Kyle asked. “You haven't missed much school lately. You were doing so well.”

“Yeah,” Kenny said, trying to come up with something on the spot. “I was throwing up.”

It wasn't a lie at least. He hadn't thrown up the day before, but he guessed that dying was a good enough excuse. Plus, there was a trash can on the route to school that contained plenty of proof that he had been sick at least once in the last twenty four hours.

“Need the notes?” Kyle asked. “I could always help catch you up...”

“Nah, I'll survive,” Kenny said. He knew Kyle was going to write off the comment as being lazy, but Kenny _had_ been in school the day before. It was just that no one knew it. Oh, well. He had more important things to concentrate on.

He could practically feel his legs turning to jelly as they made it to their homeroom. Despite knowing that Craig was _technically_ alright, he had to have been bad enough for them to think he needed to be taken in to the ambulance, and Kenny couldn't help but think that everything was all his fault. It was a very round-about situation in his head, but if Craig was hurt in any way, he was going to blame himself.

Craig turned out not to be in class yet, which didn't do much to help Kenny's nerves. He sat down and bounced his leg up and down, wondering if that was what Tweek felt like on a regular basis. Kenny rarely got _that_ anxious. Stressed, sure, but he didn't think it was worth it to worry so extremely. Not unless it was regarding someone he deeply cared about. He could think of times when he got anxious for his siblings, for example, like when they went to live with the foster family for a while, but Mysterion regularly took care of that kind of thing, and this wasn't a time for Mysterion. Craig was entirely under Kenny's jurisdiction, and Kenny couldn't say he had much experience caring for someone else _that_ much that wasn't related to him.

Craig came in _just_ before the bell, and even though he really didn't look as bad as Kenny imaged he might look, a panic still shot through him. There was a decent sized gash above Craig's left eyebrow which was really longer than it was deep, and butterfly bandaged together. His left wrist was wrapped tightly and Craig was holding it awkwardly.

Kenny cursed for the hundredth time within the last two weeks that Craig didn't sit close to him. Damn their last names, and all the teachers who thought an alphabetical seating chart was brilliant. He hadn't even been able to catch Craig's eye before he sat down, and Kenny was distracted all of first period thinking of impossible ways the whole situation could have been handled.

 _But no, I had to agree to get a motherfucking slushie_ , he cursed at himself, though deep down he knew that Craig probably would have gone to 7-11 anyway. If there was one thing that Kenny had learned, it was that death days were pretty much set in stone. Some days, you could do anything and everything in your power possible to avoid dying – even stay in bed all day if it _felt_ like it was going to be a death day and he wasn't in the mood to deal with it – and the world would still find a way to kill him. He knew there was no way the crash could have been prevented, and really, it was lucky that Craig got out as unscathed as he did.

The wait for lunch was excruciatingly long, but it was made worse by the fact that Craig didn't share many classes with him, or a locker hall. It was annoying, but it also became more obvious why he and Craig didn't ever speak to each other in school, even after taking so many drives together. There really wasn't any convenient time.

By the time lunch came, Kenny's stomach had gone through so many anxious flips and turns and back bends that he wasn't even that hungry. He rushed straight to the lunch line hoping that this wouldn't be the first day _ever_ that Craig brought food from home.

“Craig!” he shouted as soon as he entered the lunchroom. He was wearing a black Adidas shirt which, though Kenny was hyper aware of Craig's appearance lately, didn't particularly stand out much. Had Craig _not_ been wearing a wrist brace, Kenny might not have even noticed him walk in, which caused him to feel a surge of guilt.

Craig noticed him and walked directly over to him. Kenny wasn't sure why he was surprised. He supposed Craig wouldn't have totally ignored him to get in the lunch line, but it felt odd to address him so directly in school and have it met with positive response. He was only slightly nervous considering the fact that he was starting his first conversation with Craig, however. He had been nervous about _slushies_ after discussing sex with Craig, but he supposed that now that they had technically been in a _car accident_ together, nothing was difficult.

“'Sup?” Craig asked, natural as anything. It as ludicrous. He greeted Kenny as if they had been friends their whole lives, as if he wasn't so obviously injured thanks to a divergence in the routine he and Kenny had set up. A day ago, Kenny would have been overjoyed that Craig's social interaction with him had advanced so much, but now it kind of hurt that he seemed to be brushing it off so casually.

“What do you mean, _sup?_ The fuck happened, Craig?”

He shrugged. “I hydroplaned.”

“Well, yeah, I heard about that, funny enough. I mean, like...what happened?” Kenny gestured to Craig's wrist.

“Oh. Sprained it.”

“ _Fuck_ , Craig. What...what about baseball?”

Craig shrugged again, but now it seemed like he actually had to make an extreme effort to make it look like he didn't care. “Doctor said it really wasn't bad. It'll be healed in a week. Not like I broke it. We'll shift around the infield, and we'll probably have to take Kevin off the bench for a bit, but I'll be cool.”

Kenny sighed deeply. He had forgotten all about baseball until just that moment.

“Fucking shit, Craig, I'm so sorry.”

“Sorry for what? It's not your fault. You weren't even there.”

Kenny looked at him and started stammering. In _his_ mind, it _was_ his fault. He _had_ been riding with Craig, and the Universe decided it was Kenny Killing Time as usual, and Craig was in the crossfire. It was _totally_ his fault. It was his fault for asking for rides from Craig in the first place. Anything bad that ever happened to anyone because of one of his many deaths was his fault.

But Craig knew none of that.

“Right!” Kenny said, though in his reality, that was not right at all. “Right, and because I wasn't there, you didn't drive in the same direction as you usually do and you had to drive over ice.”

Craig laughed softly. “Alright, whatever. I probably would have driven over ice eventually.”

“Well, I'm sorry, anyway,” Kenny said. “Sorry your wrist probably hurts or you're out of baseball for a little bit or whatever. Just...sorry.”

Craig shrugged again. “Fate's a bitch.”

Kenny thought about how the fate that Craig thought he knew wasn't even the original fate that caused the accident in the first place.

“Yeah...yeah she is.”

Kenny got in the lunch line behind Craig.

“Since when do you get school lunch?” he asked Kenny. “You're almost never in line anymore.”

“Since we ran out of bread and peanut butter and probably won't get more for like another month or so. I was the last one to buy it, but I don't have as much time to work when we're in baseball. And I don't like having to depend on free shit if I can help it. But I can't help it right now. So here I am.”

“Same,” Craig said simply.

Kenny guessed he wasn't saying _same_ to running out of peanut butter, but more likely the bit about having to depend on handouts. He _was_ on welfare now after all. He felt bad for Craig suddenly. His family was still probably leaps and bounds better off than his own, but any kind of financial hardship was still a hardship, and Kenny wouldn't have wished any of his situation on anyone. Not even Cartman. While the kid needed a reality check, _and_ needed his own greed to slap him in the face, he had been the poor kid in South Park once, and it really didn't do much to help him.

He and Craig made it to the front of the lunch line finally, both getting sorry excuses for pizza (“This does _not_ qualify for the favorite food category,” Kenny said), and turned to look for a seat. Kenny hardly thought about the fact that they were now looking for lunch seats _together._ He was more preoccupied with trying to take Craig's tray and carry it for him.

“I'm not an invalid, Kenny,” Craig said flatly.

“I feel like it's the least I can do. It's polite anyway. I wasn't even there to witness the accident. It's only fair.”

Evidently, Craig didn't feel like arguing and handed Kenny the tray.

“So, like...where do you usually sit?” Kenny asked, realizing that he lost Craig on a lot of days.

“I don't know, I go hang out in the gym a lot. Tweek and I used to eat outside, so I did that for a pretty long time, but...not anymore.”

“Oh. Huh. I didn't really think about people not eating in the cafeteria.”

“I can give it a shot,” Craig said, unenthusiastically, but Kenny didn't really think he'd be enthusiastic about sitting anywhere. “I don't mind sitting with your friends. Clyde and Token are over there today.”

What was this new kind of miracle land that Kenny was living in? If it weren't for the fact that Craig was actually hurt, he'd have actually been thankful for the accident and the sprain and whatever it was doing to their relationship. Kenny took both of their trays to the table where Stan, Kyle, Token, and Clyde were sitting and set them down at the free end. Craig sat with a wordless nod to everyone at the table, and Stan and Kyle gave Kenny a knowing, but questioning look. Kenny shrugged with a soft smile and he and Craig ate their pizzas, listening to the table's conversation in comfortable silence.

**oOo**

After baseball practice, Kenny packed up his gear and immediately went to grab and carry Craig's bag, too, without thinking. Kenny made his way to the car and Craig stayed pretty much on his heels, but didn't speak up until they actually reached the car.

“Why are you doing this?” Craig asked, opening the back door so that Kenny could throw their bags in.

“Doing what?”

“Taking care of me.”

“Because -”

“And don't fucking tell me that you owe me or anything. I know you have this dumb shit idea that it was somehow your fault that I had an accident and got injured, but it's not. So why are you doing this?”

Kenny stopped. He realized, fully, for the first time, that all of the reasons he felt he owed Craig something were based on a reality that Craig never knew. He had only been involved in it all because Kenny had been in the car with him and was meant to die that day and on that street, but now, that was a version of reality that only Kenny was aware of. It meant nothing to Craig, and it didn't matter anyway that Kenny had been present in the car in one version of what he knew. He couldn't tell Craig that _anyway._ To Craig, no one had died and Kenny hadn't been around, and the accident had nothing to do with fate or ancient gods or being cursed. To Craig, it was _just_ an accident and that was all it was ever going to be to him.

Kenny cleared his throat. After all that, he didn't have a reason for trying to _pay Craig back_. At least not any good reason he could present. With the removal of death and Cthulhu, Kenny's greatest reason for helping Craig was that he was a little a lot in love with him. What a predicament.

“I guess I'm just nice,” Kenny said, pulling composure out of his ass. He smirked, hoping it came off as more charming than facetious. His freckles and slightly upturned nose always made him look more like a little devil than he intended, but at that moment, he hoped that he looked more like River Phoenix.

“Nice, my ass. You aren't that nice,” Craig said, but his eyes shifted, like he couldn't keep looking at Kenny in the face. Maybe the smirk had worked.

“Hey, I may be an asshole, but that doesn't mean I can't be nice.”

Craig closed his eyes and shook his head in disbelief. “You make no fucking sense.”

“I make perfect sense, fuck you,” Kenny laughed. “It's like I told Stan. Just because I _don't_ sleep around doesn't mean I can't still be a slut.”

Craig laughed. “You don't sleep around?”

“Of course not, but the school likes to think I'm some kind of gigolo, so what-fucking-ever, let them think it. I can be a slut. I'm just like...a one person slut.”

“You...are incredible.” He said it more in the sense of _wow, Kenny, you still make no sense and I can't believe you've even made it this far in life as a human being_ rather than _wow, Kenny, you're so amazing, I've never met anyone else like you in my whole life, please take me now_ , but as he decided with most things involving Craig and his methods of communication, it was better than nothing.

“Alright, so you're nice,” Craig said, returning to seriousness. “But you could be nice to anyone, and you're not. It's like you can pick and choose who to be nice to, and I'm one of the chosen.”

“Well, yeah, see, that's why I'm also an asshole. It's kinda like that thing of where you hate everyone, but pick the chosen few that don't deserve your hatred and I was one of your chosen. So I guess you're one of mine.”

Craig's eyes squinted. “Okay, fair, that's true. I don't hate you. And I don't not hate many people. But it's still not the same. Just because I choose not to hate someone doesn't mean I'm _nice_ to them.”

Kenny shrugged. “Two versions of the same thing. You not hating someone _is_ your base level of being nice. And when I'm _not_ nice to people, it's not like I hate them. I'm just indifferent. Same concept. Just kinda flipped. And we chose each other – you to not hate me, and me to be nice to you – because it's the same thing. Everyone in this town is pretty fucked up, but we're the same brand. I'm fucked up just like you, and you're fucked up just like me.”

“Wow. You sure know how to flatter a guy,” Craig scoffed.

“Well, I wasn't trying to flatter you. It's just the truth. If I wanted to flatter you, I'd give you a compliment. Like, wow, Craig, you look really cool when you smoke. Or, wow, Craig, your Arctic Monkeys shirt looks really good on you. Or, wow, Craig, I've never seen a tongue piercing look so good.”

Kenny stopped himself suddenly. He hadn't really meant to go so far, and worried he might go even further if he let his mouth keep running. On the bright side, he supposed, he didn't tell Craig that he _already_ thought all tongue rings looked hot. Little victories.

Craig's pressed his lips together, clearly not expecting any of what Kenny had just said. He couldn't even accuse Kenny of just being nice anymore. He had gone beyond.

“Are you flattered now?” Kenny asked, attempting desperately to save himself. If he was going to be an idiot and go too far, he could at least try to be smooth about it.

“...No,” Craig lied.

“Yeah, of course you wouldn't be,” Kenny said. “I guess no amount of cool shirts and sexy piercings can save you once you're already fucked up like a McCormick.”

“No, that's not what I – sexy?”

“Hm?”

“ _Sexy_ piercings?”

“What? I don't know what you're talking about.”

Craig rolled his eyes. “Alright, if you say so. I guess if I were going to be fucked up like anyone, I would choose to be fucked up like you.”

“Oh, wow, now I'm the one that gets to be flattered. Come on, let's go get a slushie.”

“You...want to go get a slushie? You realize that's where I was going when I hydroplaned, right?”

“Well, that's what you get for trying to go get a slushie without me. It was the universe telling you to wait until I could go get one with you.”

Everything that Kenny had just said felt very strange coming out of his mouth, as he finally committed to Craig's version of reality – the only reality that actually existed anymore. He couldn't know that the reason Craig hydroplaned was because he _had_ taken Kenny with him rather than going without him, but Kenny supposed that just wasn't true anymore. Whatever Craig knew was all that mattered, and as far as he was concerned, _this_ would be Kenny's first ever slushie excursion.

It was then that Kenny decided this was actually the best case scenario, crash and all. They were still going on their slushie date (though Kenny wasn't sure if either the initial date or this one were _dates_ at all), and Craig being in an accident had given Kenny an excuse to fawn over him. All in all, it was kind of ideal. Plus, Craig's wrist would be healed in time to play their first baseball game of the season. No sweat.

While it had been Kenny's own fault not to think twice about going down the road to 7-11 when he had never gone before, he knew that going _this_ time wouldn't be a problem. In the same way that new places usually spelled danger for him, places he had _already_ died (and so recently at that) were generally safe. No rule was ever set in stone with his curse, aside from the fact that he pretty much always woke up in his bed the next day, but that one was usually consistent. The best day to go to a park, for example, was always the day after he died there.

“I'd offer to drive,” Kenny started, “but...I can't.”

Craig raised on eyebrow. “Really? You pegged me as the type to want to try to drive as soon as it was legal. Before it was legal, even. Just to leave.”

“You would think,” Kenny said. “But I have nothing to drive. Family doesn't even have a functional car right now. We can't afford lessons, and my parents don't care enough to teach me.”

“I should teach you sometime,” Craig offered.

“Yeah, okay, Mr. Hydroplane,” Kenny teased, rolling his eyes.

“It's fine, anyway. I can drive. If my wrist hurts, I just won't use that hand. I made it to school fine this morning. You don't owe me.”

“Just trying to be nice.”

They got in the car and Kenny had an eerie sense of déjà vu as they drove to 7-11 once again. This time, the road was not nearly as icy, and _A Light That Never Goes Out_ was no longer the song that was playing. Kenny realized he should have taken that song as a bad omen as well, though he had to agree that dying next to Craig wasn't as bad as some of his more unsavory deaths. Instead, they parked safely outside 7-11 to _The Boy With the Thorn in His Side_ , which felt so much more positive.

_The boy with the thorn in his side...behind the hatred there lies a murderous desire for love..._

Kenny wondered if Craig himself was the boy with the thorn in his side. Maybe the both of them were. He could only hope that behind Craig's own hatred remained _some_ desire to love.

As he had promised the first time, Craig ended up paying for Kenny's slushie. He had gotten enthusiastic, wondering if this would be his last slushie for a while, and filled his cup with four different flavors. With any luck, carpooling with Craig would mean more future slushies, but the pessimist in his head told him that it was always possible that Craig would decide that Kenny was the worst slushie partner in history and disinvite him forever.

They got back to the car, and Craig started it, but he did nothing but lean against the steering wheel for a while. Kenny didn't bother him, figuring he must have a reason, like he was checking gas or his wrist hurt or something. He was playing with his tongue ring absentmindedly, which only served to distract Kenny further. He probably wouldn't have been able to come up with words even if he had wanted to.

“Hey, Kenny,” Craig said. His tone was difficult to read, as usually, but now it was even harder as he had his chin rested on his hands atop the steering wheel.

“What's up?”

“Do you...have to be home any time soon?

“Never, why?”

Craig leaned back in his chair then. “I just...don't want to go home right now. And since your house is further than mine, I can't really get out of going home if I drop you off right now.”

“Nah, dude, I can stay out til whenever,” Kenny said, his heart rate picking up. If they weren't going to his house, and they weren't going to Craig's house, that meant they were going _elsewhere_ together. Elsewhere together meant hanging out – _real_ hanging out – and was as close to a date and Kenny figured he was going to get.

“Sweet,” Craig said, and finally started to pull out of the parking lot.

He didn't seem to be driving anywhere in particular, and he didn't seem to be in a talking mood either. Never a total issue. The cassette was still on the “positive song” section, and it felt kind of nice to just _drive_ without having to worry about a location or a set end to their time together.

“Where should we go, then?” Craig asked. It was a simple enough question, and nice of Craig to ask him since he was the one not letting Kenny go home, but Kenny took it as a test. This was going to be their first time _really_ hanging out together outside of school. He had to pick somewhere cool, but it had to be Craig's version of cool – not the Stan Marsh version of cool. Not that there was anything wrong with either one. They just weren't the same. The popular kid version of cool might have entailed hanging out at the mall, but since everything at the mall cost money, and the mall was packed with South Park residents, it didn't not qualify as a hot Tucker/McCormick location. The record store would have been a nice choice, but the record store involved more money and it was too small to be comfortable and private. Kenny wasn't sure if Craig had _comfortable_ or _private_ on his mind, but Kenny was taking this as a once in a lifetime opportunity that he was not willing to fuck up. If something had the potential to happen, he was going to do everything in his power to make it happen.

“We could go park at Stark's Pond,” Kenny offered. “No one's there this time of day.”

He could have sworn that Craig's eyes lit up.

“Perfect,” he agreed, and immediately flipped a U-turn.

Kenny hadn't been to the pond in a few months but it was definitely one of his favorite places in the little town. There wasn't much to it, which was why Stan and Kyle rarely wanted to hang out there. They were the kind of people that really needed _something to do_ when they hung out. They weren't satisfied with just existing. They were like the fucking Phineas and Ferb of South Park. It was no wonder Karen liked them so much. For Kenny, it was exactly what he needed. It was in every way the opposite of his own home; loud, incomprehensible, violent, chaotic, dirty. It was the most beautiful location in the whole town in his opinion, and if anything, it was the best place to have a cigarette. Since there was only one bench, it was pretty easy to claim and have the whole pond to yourself. Kenny wasn't sure if Craig ever hung out at Stark's, or if he even appreciated it the same way, but if Kenny was going to share the peace of it with anyone, he was glad it was Craig, and he thought that Craig might appreciate its beauty more than anyone else he knew.

“You come here a lot?” Craig asked when he parked the car near the bench.

“I wish,” Kenny said. “I mean, I'd come here more if I could.”

“I never do,” Craig said. “I don't know what I do with my time.”

“Drink coffee?” Kenny suggested. “Smoke? Play baseball?”

“Yeah, I guess so. Damn, I spend a lot of time drinking coffee and smoking. I might as well be a goth kid.”

Kenny snorted. “We can be our own goth kids.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“I dunno. We'll have our own posse. We're so non-conforming, we don't even conform to the goths.”

“Shit, we're hardcore.”

“I know. The goth kids _wish_ they could be us.”

Craig opened his door, and Kenny did the same, assuming they'd go sit on the bench, but Craig shut it again immediately and got back in the car.

“It's fucking cold as dicks, what the hell?”

“Well, Craig, this may _shock_ you, but we _do_ live on a snowy ass mountain.”

“Yeah, but it wasn't this cold at practice...was it?”

Kenny shrugged. “Chill off the pond, I guess.”

Craig hummed as he turned the car back on. “I've got an idea,” he mumbled. The music came back on, and Craig turned the car heater on. It wasn't that strong, and they usually didn't use the heat or the air when driving. He then got out of the car with it still running and reached under his seat to move it all the way up close to the steering wheel.”

“Get out and move your seat all the way up, too. There's like a little lever thing under it on the right.”

Kenny found what he was talking about, moved his seat up, and watched to see what Craig was going to do next.

“Come on, get in the back.”

Kenny shut the front door and got into the back seat as instructed. Craig rolled his window down with some strained effort – they were the old, crank handle kind, and they liked to stick – and leaned back in his seat.

“You can roll your down too, if you want,” he told Kenny, who did so, underestimating how difficult the handle was to crank.

“Isn't, like, your battery gunna die or some shit?”

Craig shrugged. “We don't have to keep the car running forever. Kinda cool, though, don't you think?”

“Yeah, it is,” Kenny agreed. And it _was_ cool. Kenny rarely had the luxury of a heater in _any_ environment, car or otherwise. He had lost track of how many times he had slept in a parka. It was nice in the car, since Craig never used it, and though anyone else would say it was ridiculous or wasteful to run it with the windows open, it was kind of perfect. It was like making a room as cold as possible just to be able to use extra blankets – again, not a luxury he was used to, but they used to do it at Kyle's house during sleepovers all the time. The heat was more comfortable because it was being immediately contrasted by the cool air, and the cool air was less biting because of the shelter they had. It was perfect. It was cigarettes and coffee.

Craig leaned forward and opened his car console to grab his pack of American Spirits and popped one out to offer one to Kenny who took it gratefully. It was the first cigarette Craig had ever offered to him, he realized. It was like a new step in intimacy. In fact, the entire scenario was more intimate than any situation that had previously shared. They were at Kenny's favorite place in South Park, sharing Craig's cigarettes, running down the car battery, sitting in the back seat, and enjoying a perfect temperature to what had now become their favorite cassette tape. Kenny realized that, had someone asked him, this was probably what he would have described as a perfect date. Whether or not Craig thought of it that way was still unclear. In fact, it was unclear if Craig thought of him that way at all, but now, Kenny couldn't imagine that Craig _didn't_ think of him that way at least a little bit. He was gay, so he had at least half the battle won. It was infinitely easier to seduce a gay guy than a straight guy. Not that he would consider _any_ of what he was doing as seductive. Then again, Craig probably didn't consider his tongue ring to be seductive either, and yet, Kenny had had at least three wet dreams already involving the very ring Craig was sliding against his lips between cigarette drags. The fact of the matter remained, Kenny determined, that you couldn't possibly spend as much one-on-one time as they did together, endlessly questioning each other about personal life details, and not have at least entertained the possibility of a romance. You couldn't be content sitting at Stark's Pond alone with someone if you didn't entertain the possibility of something more. Craig, at least, didn't seem to be the type of guy who fucked around with that noise. He never spent one-on-one time with _anyone_ unless it was Tweek, and it had apparently gotten Tweek pretty far.

“So,” Kenny started and Craig turned his head to look at him before looking away to exhale and keep smoke out of Kenny's face. Honestly, though, Kenny wouldn't have minded getting smoke in his face if it meant he could watch Craig exhaling. He looked especially sexy blowing smoke. Anything he did with his mouth was especially sexy.

“Mm?”

“So, you don't want to go home?”

Craig shrugged like it wasn't that big of a deal, but Kenny suspected that it probably was.

“I never really want to,” Craig explained. His next cigarette drag was especially long. After an equally long exhale, he added, “My dad's kind of a dick lately.”

“Lately?”

“Okay, my dad's kind of a dick all the time.”

“I can relate,” Kenny said with a smile, though he was more amused that he _could_ relate to Craig than what it was he was relating to. It seemed to be an ongoing pattern with them.

“I think it's worse now that we're, like...poor, y'know? He doesn't like the idea of not having money.”

“Wow, small world,” Kenny said, laughing ironically.

“Sorry,” Craig said, wincing slightly. “I just mean...like, he takes it _really_ personally. I think he actually takes it out, like, on me and Ruby. Like it's our fault he isn't rolling in cash.”

“Damn. My dad just gets drunk. He knows whose fault it is.”

“Doesn't make it any better,” Craig said. “You know he actually hates that I'm friends with Token? I'd never tell the kid, but...it's just easier to distance myself than tell him it's hard to hang out because my dad detests their family. And it's not even a race thing. He's just pissed that they have money and he doesn't. He thinks he has a right to just as much money just for being alive, but even if that were the case...he _still_ wouldn't deserve it.”

“Shit, I'm sorry.”

“You sure are sorry for a lot of shit that isn't your fault.”

“Force of habit. I grew up apologizing.”

“Doesn't sound like a healthy way to grow up.”

“Didn't say it was. Do I look healthy to you?” He gestured to his malnourished skinny figure. He would've given any rock star a run for their money. Maybe he _would_ make a good Kurt Cobain. He mentally jotted it down as a Halloween idea. Maybe he could bribe Craig to be the Sid Vicious to his Johnny Rotten. At the very least, he thought they were deserving of the _Sex Pistols_ title, whatever the fuck a sex pistol was. It sounded hot enough.

“I'll respectfully take that as a rhetorical question.”

“Oh, thanks. So, you think your dad would approve of me as a friend, then? I've got less money than he does.”

“Nah,” Craig said. “No offense. My dad doesn't like anyone or anything. He hates you if you're better than him, and despises you if he thinks you're beneath him. Not that you're beneath him. He just judges everything by money.”

“No offense taken. I figure he must be pretty bad if you're willing to do any old thing with any old person in order to get away from him.”

“That's not true,” Craig said.

“Oh? Did I miss something?”

“Well, it _is_ pretty bad. But not so bad that I'd rather do literally _anything_ else with any _one_ else. My dad sucks, but his level of suck doesn't negate everyone else's level of suck. It's just bad enough that I'd rather come to Stark's Pond with you. But if it were anyone else...yeah, I'd probably just go home. I usually don't have anyone around worth hanging out with instead.”

Kenny felt himself starting to turn red, and for a minute, he pondered taking too big of a drag off of his cigarette to pretend he had gotten red from doing it, but he decided last minute that that would be even less cool.

“You know what, Craig? I never want to go home either. I'd rather be a lot of places other than being home, but it's usually better than being alone. And the other option usually is being alone. Being home is better than being alone, and being alone is better than hanging out with most of the assholes at school. But being with you is better than being at home.”

Craig looked at him, meaningfully this time, making eye contact. For the first time since they had been riding home together – in fact, for the first time in all the years Kenny had known him – he saw Craig blush

“Y-yeah,” he said, working through something in his throat. “Yeah, exactly. You know...I was actually kind of...relieved when you asked if I could give you rides home? I wasn't lying, I _was_ grateful for the company, and I kind of hoped it would lead to afternoons like this. Not specifically at the pond or anything, but just...not _having_ to go home. Having something to do, and not someone shitty to do it with. I mean, like, Clyde and those guys are cool, but...God damn, they can annoy me sometimes. And things got a little weird after Tweek and I broke up. I guess that happens, you know? Anyway, you're one of the only people I know that I wouldn't have minded not going home with. You didn't disappoint. It's not like I would have told Stan I'd give him rides home.”

“No?”

“Nope.”

“You agreed to me pretty fast.”

“Yup.”

“Why?”

“I kind of had already decided you didn't suck. It's not like I had to make a last second decision when you asked me. I have a list.”

“You...have a list?”

“Yeah,” Craig said, like it was no big deal, but he was still red. “A list of people that I don't hate.”

“What, in case you forget and need to remind yourself who you're allowed to do favors for?”

Craig chucked. “No, it's not like it's a long list. I can't really forget. It's just a list. Like a hit list, I guess, but the opposite. It's a much easier list for me to make and keep track of. Just...people that _don't_ make me wanna die. Or...okay, this is gunna sound pretty gay.”

“Dude, you're gay. So, like, _everything_ you say is, like, fucking default gay.”

“Okay, sure. Just...it's a list of people that make it worth it to stay alive. Don't laugh.”

Kenny got serious. “Why the hell would I laugh at that?”

“I told you, it's gay.”

“It's not. It's like...a valid thing...but...I'm on the list?”

“Yeah,” Craig said quietly. “I guess that's the gay part.”

Kenny's heart leapt. Now he couldn't tell how Craig meant _gay_. He wondered if it was too much to hope for that he meant Super Helplessly Homosexual _gay_.

“And you're saying you determined this _before_ I asked you to give me rides?”

“Yup,” Craig confirmed again, still pretty quiet.

“But you _never_ talked to me.”

“Yeah...yeah, I kind of wanted to keep you on the list, and I tend to fuck that kind of shit up when I talk to people.”

Incredible. _Incredible._

“Well, so far, so good, right?” Kenny said, starting to get nervous. He hadn't been so nervous talking to Craig since they had first started hanging out. “I mean...I _am_ still on the list, right?”

“Yeah...you've moved up a few spots. But yeah.”

“Oh, did I? Who have I passed up?” Kenny asked, deciding it was alright to ask now. He didn't think it would have been appropriate to ask who was listed unprompted.

“Well...Tweek, for one, since...he got bumped altogether. Not that I totally hate him, but like...it's not like I'm just humming to stay alive because of him. We've got mixed memories. Some are great. Some kind of make me want to blow my head off.”

“Oh. Wow. I'm sorry.”

“It's fine. Happens. People hop on and off the list all the time. You passed up Clyde and Token. They're still on the list, but...I mean, they annoy the fuck out of me sometimes, I told you that. I might have offered them rides home, but...not every day.”

“Damn. Go me?”

“You didn't pass Ruby or Stripe. Sorry. No one passes Ruby or Stripe.”

“I got beaten by a goddamn animal,” Kenny muttered, but really, he was shocked to even be _considered_ of the list, and he had also beaten Craig's two oldest friends? He was so far ahead of the game, he didn't even know how he had allowed himself to make a comment on it.

“He's grandfathered in.”

“Nah, I get it, dude. If I had a list, you wouldn't have been able to pass Karen.”

“Fair enough.”

Craig put his cigarette out in the car ash tray as _Ask Me_ started playing. His fingers, despite having just finished a smoke, were shaking, and he reached for a second. Kenny ashed his own out of his window but was too focused on Craig's actions to get a new one.

“I have to tell you something,” he said. His voice was no longer steady.

“Yeah?” Kenny prompted apprehensively.

“You're on the list because I like you.”

Kenny swallowed hard, sure he had misheard. “I...thought we had established that. That I don't suck.”

“You _don't_ suck,” Craig said, voice building back up. “You don't suck so much that I actually have a real fucking crush on you.”

_Shitshitshitshitshitshit._

The game plan, if there had even _been_ one, was thrown out the car's open window. Not a single imagined conversation that Kenny had thought up involved _Craig_ confessing _anything_ to him. The list situation was _already_ out of the blue. This was entirely unprecedented. His hammering heart actually _hurt._ And then, of all the things he could have said, Kenny came up with the most _brilliant_ one.

“B-before Tweek? Or after?”

Craig went a bit pale. “I...I don't know. I've...never had to answer that out loud before. You know, you've been on the list for a while. It used to just be called the _No Hate_ list. I put you there after that fourth grade field trip where we were partners when I realized that just because I hated a group of people didn't mean I had to hate specific individuals within in it.”

“...Oh.”

“But then it eventually changed to the _Keep Me Alive_ list. And you stayed and I liked you. I can't even say when or why. No, that's a lie. I have plenty of reasons _why_. I just kind of...can't tell where it cross from _these are reasons I don't hate Kenny_ to _these are reasons I really like Kenny_. There's kind of a blurred line. It could have been off and on. Maybe it was forever. I could have liked you _during_ Tweek for all I know. I never entertained the thought. But you were always on the list. And then you asked me for rides and I didn't even have to think about it.”

 _That's why he answered so quickly_ , Kenny realized.

“I just didn't _have_ to think about it before,” Craig said. “You were on the list and you were safe there and nothing was wrong, and sometimes I had a boyfriend and I didn't _have_ to think about it, and I was eager to let you in to my life a little more, but in all the time I had been interested in you, regardless of why it was, I had never been so close in contact with you, or for such a long stretch of time. And now I do have to think about it, and...I just had to tell you, I guess.”

He started sucking down his cigarette like his life depended on the smoke. Kenny stayed quiet for a long time, watching his deep inhale and slow, shaky exhale. He had never seen Craig so shaken up. He tried to process everything he had just heard. So Craig had been interested in him, at least on some level, for the exact same amount of time that _he_ had been interested in Craig. And he never knew. It figured, really. It figured that they would have felt the same way about each other the whole time. Just like Kenny had been saying all along – they were cut from the same cloth. Two different sides of the same coin. He supposed he had never noticed because of the _different_ part. They had different, fucked up journeys that inevitably led to the same destination. This, Kenny had known all along. And yet, he never considered that Craig would have figured it out in his own way as well.

“Sorry,” Craig said, suddenly looking ashamed – afraid, almost.

“No...,” Kenny said finally, slowly. He was coming to terms with how actually terrified he was and tried to come up with a plan to overcome it. It wasn't working. “No, I...have to say something, too.”

“Yeah?”

“I can get home fine on my own.”

“...Fuck. Okay. Alright, fine, then.”

“No! No, I mean...I mean, I _would have been_ fine getting home on my own. But I asked you to drive me anyway. Because I like you, too,” he said, hurriedly adding, “for just as long. Not sure how or when, but suddenly it was there, and I could trace my line of thoughts back to fourth grade.”

Craig's eyes widened. Kenny realized he was just as difficult to read when he was showing emotion as when he wasn't.

“You know,” Kenny added, his adrenaline taking over completely. “It's kind of a shame you don't blame me for your accident.”

“And why is that? Not that I ever would.”

“Because if you blamed me, I could have payed you back.”

Craig caught on instantly that Kenny didn't mean by carrying his lunch tray or baseball equipment. “What would you have done?”

Wordlessly, Kenny took Craig by the cheeks and kissed him full on the mouth as Craig held his still burning cigarette away from the two of them. His eyes widened before they slowly shut and he very softly tested Kenny by running his tongue against Kenny's lip. The kiss would have felt chaste (uncharacteristically so, compared to Kenny's countless fantasies) if it weren't for Craig's tongue ring; the ring that Kenny had somehow forgotten until that moment. It was immediately more attractive to him, a feat he didn't think was possible. The ring was cool on Kenny's mouth, but mostly forced him to think of how it would feel elsewhere – _inside_ his mouth, on his neck, on his nipple, lower, and even lower. It was both better than a fantasy, because of the reality of it, and worse, because of the uncertainty of what was going to come next.

Kenny decided to pull away as Craig's cautious tongue retreated, dropping his hands from the sides of the darker boy's face. He was kind of relieved to realize that Craig was just as surprised and confused and in the middle of processing everything as he was. Neither had been prepared to have their feeling confessed _or_ reciprocated that day.

“I...would have let you do that anyway,” Craig said. “Pay back or not.”

Kenny swallowed, already thinking of the next kiss.

“You...remember when we were talking about...being with the right person? And how it could be the right person and everything and still be the wrong time?”

Craig nodded shakily, licking his chapping lips with his pierced tongue. He didn't know how accidentally seductive he was. He couldn't possibly know.

“Well, what about the wrong person at the right time?” Kenny asked. “H-how does that work?”

“I wouldn't know,” Craig said. “But I'll give the _right_ person at the right time a try. That's probably the best combination.”

He couldn't help look Kenny up and down, then. He had tried so hard not to do it every day for the past two weeks. Kenny realized that _he_ was being referred to as the _right_ person just as Craig was realizing just how fucking _right_ he was.

“Well...then in that case,” Kenny said, slowly and steadily, “let me at least pay you back for all the car rides.”

Craig didn't question him or object to him, and watched as Kenny slide closer. He seemed to have an idea of what kind of payback Kenny intended, and welcomed him as he slowly straddled Craig's lap. Kenny leaned down and kissed Craig again, this time, fully aware of what he was doing. This was not an impulse, and he was now calmed enough to be completely in control.

Kenny's lips were slightly chapped, both from cold air and being outside so much for baseball, but it worked, because Craig's were as well. The roughness fit everything they had experience together thus far – Craig's car, their uncertainty, the barriers they each had put up, and the struggles they had each been through. It was how it was supposed to feel, and their shared roughness really wasn't rough at all.

Kenny, eager to re-experience the tongue ring, tempted Craig by letting his tongue run across the space where his lips were parted. Craig reacted to the invitation, apparently fully coming to terms with what was happening, and slipped his tongue fully in Kenny's mouth.

It had always been an odd, but strong, fantasy of Kenny's to kiss someone with a tongue ring. In fact, he might go so far as to say piercings were his favorite kink, and having the tiny metal ball in his mouth, cool on his lips and running along his own tongue, sent his excitement into overdrive. It was so much better than he could have dreamed, and Craig's smoky breath matched it just the way the Smith's cassette matched his car, or the way his coffee and cigarettes couldn't be beat by anything edible. It was _him_. It was all Craig, and it was real, and Kenny's dream version of him couldn't even compete.

Unable to stop himself, Kenny's hands found their way to Craig's hair, which he had never touched before. In fact, it had been years before he had ever even _seen_ his hair, and it felt almost forbidden to him. The sides, where his hair was shaved short, were velvety and a direct contrast to the feel of his lips. Kenny wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but the softness was a pleasant surprise against his own callused fingers. Craig reacted to Kenny's hands in his hair with a new found enthusiasm and deepened the kiss, making it hard enough for Kenny to groan in the back of his throat. They responded to each other with aggression, and though the kisses were rough, they contained years of repressed feelings and weeks of growing sexual frustration. It was exactly what they both needed from each other, and they were proving to each other that they were just as matched in passion as they were matched in baggage.

Sensing that he was responding well to the aggression, Craig's own hand then reached up to Kenny's thick, dirty blonde hair and yanked at it. The action pulled Kenny's head back, exposing his neck to Craig. Craig peppered Kenny's neck with kisses, mimicking the fantasy Kenny had had just moments prior, each kiss getting more eager. The piercing was shockingly cold on his neck, more so than it had been in his mouth. The cool air coming in through the window hit the wet spots Craig left behind making him shiver, but he didn't get goosebumps until Craig bit him softly. He pulled back for a moment, and Kenny had the feeling he was going to apologize, but Kenny simply turned his neck, exposing it further.

“No,” he said roughly, “do it again.”

Craig obliged with pleasure and passion, and Kenny realized the little bites were just as much one of his kinks as the piercing was. Craig combined the bites with eager sucking until Kenny was left with three dark hickeys between his ear and collar bone. Craig pulled back to inspect his handy work and ran his thumb over the spots, smirking softly.

 _Jesus Christ, why does he have to be so hot?_ Kenny asked himself, enticed by the smirk. Craig's apprehension had melted, and melted Kenny's along with it. They could no longer tell where the car heater stopped and their own heat started.

“Nice,” Craig said, and for once, Kenny knew that he meant it. The amount of emotion in that one _nice_ was greater than the amount of emotion in half the things Kenny had ever heard Craig say, and it was even better, because the other half of the times he had showed emotion in the last two weeks, it was rather depressing. Kenny was glad that he was the one causing this _new_ emotion in Craig - this passionate, eager hunger, and, dare he say it, _joy_ in his dark eyes. He kind of felt bad, but Kenny was almost _glad_ that he wasn't the cause of Craig's frustration and anger. He felt bad that Craig had felt bad, and he had felt bad that he was thinking those kinds of thoughts about people that were _his_ friends, too, in some cases, but Kenny was _glad_ that Tweek had upset Craig, and he was glad that Stan riled him up, and he was even a little glad that Craig father was so shitty that Craig didn't even want to go home. Because that meant he'd rather be with Kenny than go home. He liked Kenny better than Kenny's friends. He left Kenny on his list and knocked Tweek off, and told Kenny he was both the _right_ person and it was the _right_ time. Kenny wasn't glad that Craig was ever upset, but he _was_ glad that in a world where the 'boy with the thorn in his side' hated so much, Kenny himself was exempt. He was the one that made Craig glad and passionate and calm and enthusiastic.

“You gunna need to hide it?” Craig asked, coming slightly off the high he had gotten from kissing Kenny to face the reality of the situation.

“Fuck no,” Kenny said, shifting around to check the damage in the rear view mirror. His neck was splotched with dark purple, like a simple constellation of bruising. Excitement rushed immediately to his groin, and he realized that, once again, Craig made him realize another kink to his ever growing list.

One: piercings. Tongue piercings.

Two: bites. Being bitten.

Three: being marked. Not that Kenny was keen to the literal idea of being _owned_ by someone, but he was definitely into the idea of being marked by someone who wanted him – marked by someone _because_ he was wanted by them.

“No?” Craig asked, making sure neither of them would get in trouble thanks to his overzealous behavior.

“No. You marked me, but what's the point of marking your territory if no one else can see it?”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Craig whispered as Kenny winked at him, and pulled him back onto his lap.

“You – can do – me – if you – want,” Craig said, kissing back over the bruises.

“Mm – I'll get to that,” Kenny assured him, worried that Craig was just saying that to be in the moment. Craig's father didn't seem to be the type of person to let his son walk around with McCormick hickeys down his throat. “But first, I think I have a better idea. I still have a lot of payback to give you.”

Craig nodded, agreeing to whatever kind of payback Kenny was referring to. He got off Craig's lap (which the latter seemed none too pleased with) and sat back next to him.

“Turn around, lean up against the door,” Kenny instructed, and Craig quickly did so, beginning to understand. He was now laying longways on the back seat, his back propped up against the door. Kenny turned his body to face him, knees tucked under him on the seat, and leaned up to give Craig another quick kiss on the lips. The position was much more natural and easy to maneuver around, especially with the front seats pulled up so far.

Kenny kissed down Craig's neck, but more quickly than he had been kissed, eager to get to what he had been working up to, and also worried that if he lingered, he might leave a hickey in a dangerous spot. When he reached Craig's collar bone, Kenny lifted his shirt to continue kissing, but stopped and leaned back for a minute to look at Craig's torso. He was lean and fit – not quite as muscular as Stan or Clyde, but he was definitely toned. He was perhaps just as thin as Kenny was, but where Kenny was all malnourishment and bone, Craig was lithe muscle. With his darker toned skin, Kenny could have given Craig his name and let him live a life as a Malibu Ken doll. It would have been obnoxious how well he wore all of his features, if they didn't make him so damn attractive. Kenny leaned down to kiss one of Craig's nipples, which were a few shades darker than the rest of his skin.

“Would you ever pierce them?” Kenny asked, his voice muffled against Craig's chest.

“My nipples?”

“Mm.”

“I...don't know. Do you _want_ me to pierce them?”

“Depends,” Kenny said between kisses. “Does my opinion on it matter to you?”

“Fuck yeah, it matters.”

Kenny's heart pounded hard. “In that case, I think you could pull it off.”

He bit gently at Craig's nipple, and the way Craig jumped and squeaked told him that maybe he shared his newly discovered kink. Kenny kissed a trail down to the hem of Craig's pants and stopped, raising himself up. Kenny put his hands on the button of Craig's practice pants, but looked him in the eyes first to get quadruple confirmation that it was okay. Craig nodded, and then, trying to hide the shakiness in his fingers, Kenny unbuttoned the pants and pulled them down.

Craig was wearing Calvin Klein boxer briefs, which Kenny struggled not to comment on. His family was on welfare, and here this bitch was wearing bougie ass underwear. He would have laughed if Craig didn't wear them so well. Kenny told himself for the millionth time to stop being surprised that Craig looked so good in everything he wore and doing everything he did.

Even more enticing than the underwear, however, was what was under them. Craig was already rock hard and Kenny could see the shape of him through the fabric. If anything, it only encouraged Kenny, and couldn't imagine wanting anything more than he wanted Craig at that moment. He stroked Craig outside his underwear, and the darker boy shivered softly. Suddenly, it sounded as though Craig needed to take extra care to remember to breath properly and Kenny couldn't wait to see how he would react to what was to come. Unable to wait any longer, he slipped his fingers under the waistband and shimmied them off.

Kenny's breath hitched before he could stop it. As if he hadn't _just_ told himself to stop being so surprised at Craig's continually impressive appearance, he had to stop and stare in awe. Craig's cock was, without a doubt, the most perfect he had ever seen. It wasn't that Kenny made a real habit of looking at cocks. In fact, he really hadn't seen many at all aside from his friends when they were younger and whomever he changed next to in the locker, and even then, he didn't get purposeful good looks. But if he _had_ to describe a perfect cock, Craig's was it. Kenny also wasn't the type of person to say that genitalia was sexy or beautiful in and of itself. Genitalia was sexy because of what it was associated with, but on its own, Kenny couldn't say he was attracted to genitalia. He never wanted people based on the genitalia they had, and if he _really_ had to take a stance on the matter, the fine points of genitals on their own were kind of ugly. A dick was a dick. Dudes didn't draw dicks on the bathroom walls because they were exquisite works of art. They did it because it was funny.

But, inevitably, Craig was an exception to the rule. His _was_ a work of art. It wasn't too big, or threatening. It wasn't too small. It fit him. He was circumcised, which Kenny had never paused to wonder about, but that fit him too. Even the fine line where the colors shifted just before the head was kind of exquisite.

“Why the _fuck_ are you so damn perfect?” Kenny asked, looking up at him. Craig started to turn dark red – either from looking at Kenny's position, or being complimented, or both.

“I- I'm not,” Craig said. “We've...just spent two weeks talking exclusively about how not perfect I am. I'm fucked up, spiteful, used goods.”

“That's part of what makes you perfect to me,” Kenny said, pressing a soft kiss to Craig's dick. Craig pressed his lips together tightly to keep a gasp in. “And five minutes ago this was going to be a favor to you, but now, I think getting to put your dick in my mouth is going to be such an honor, it'll be a favor to _me_.”

Craig whimpered slightly as Kenny took him in his mouth, and hearing Craig make such a sound made Kenny just as excited. He took it slowly, savoring the taste and letting Craig savor it as well. He was glad that Craig was sized rightly enough to fit all the way in his mouth, and a shock of electricity went through Kenny's body every time he hit the back of his throat and Craig gasped softly. He stroked at Craig's balls gently, but massaged enough to illicit a more intense reaction from him. Though Kenny's sole objective was to make Craig feel better than he could ever remember, Kenny found that performing the act gave him just as much satisfaction. He wasn't doing it for money or because he could. It wasn't a bet, and it wasn't coercion. He wanted Craig – all of Craig – and wanted to show it in every conceivable way, and watching him grasp for the door's handle and feeling him pull at his hair gave Kenny pleasure he didn't know he could receive from _giving_ oral.

Craig came to _This Charming Man_ , moaning deeply as Kenny's mouth was filled and he swallowed.

“Jesus _fucking_ Christ _._ ”

“Good?” Kenny panted, wiping his mouth.

“To say the least,” Craig replied, his voice a bit gruff.

“Well, if you liked getting it half as much as I liked giving it, I'd say my work here is done.”

Craig smile genuinely, pulling his boxers back up. Kenny would have given him ten thousand _more_ blowjobs if it meant he got to see that smile every day.

“Cigarette?” Kenny asked. Craig obliged, taking one for himself as well, and they both lit up as they tried to catch their breath.

“You know,” Kenny said after they had both taken their first drags, “I really do think you're perfect. That wasn't just some heat of the moment shit.”

“But -,”

“I know,” Kenny said. “I know your history with Tweek, and why he broke up with you, and what your emotional state was after that, and I know that you slept with him and that you weren't a hundred percent into it. I know you're on welfare. I know your dad sucks. I know your worst grade is in history. I know you hate almost everyone and everything, and I know you're cynical, and hurt. And I don't care. I mean I _care_ , but that's because I care about you and don't want you to hurt. But I don't care in that sense that none of that changes you in my eyes. I mean, yeah, you've got a sexy tongue ring, and a perfect cock, and your face is so pretty, I don't know what to do other than sit on it, and that stuff makes you perfect, too. But everything else? All that stuff I've spent time learning about you? That stuff makes you more perfect to me. _For_ me. I don't care where you've been, or what you've done, or who you've been _with_. I love you. I love all of that because it's a part of you. I love you, Craig.”

“You...you what?”

Kenny flushed, realizing that he had never said that out loud. Still, it was no less true. “I love you. After all, I have an appreciation for leftovers that everyone else looks over. Cold pizza, my tie dye thrift store shirt...There's more value in all of those things to me than what the rest of the world values. And I think I have better reasons for loving all of _my_ things than everyone else has for loving material valuables. I love you for all that you are Craig. And I think I have for a very long time.”

Craig stared at him, speechless. He had never made Craig so speechless before and it was scaring him slightly. Then, when Kenny thought their cigarettes were going to burn out on their own, he cleared his throat.

“Kenny. I am...so in love with you. And...if this is what it's _supposed_ to feel like...I think I've loved you for a very long time, too. And I think I know what you mean now. I want your tie dye, and your pizza, and your house, and your pop tart dinners, and your backyard throne, and...everything. I want everything that you are. I'm fucked up like you, and you're fucked up like me, but...it's not a bad thing, is it? Because it means we're fucked up together. We're together.”

Kenny beamed and had no other way to respond other than to kiss Craig again. They could have stayed in the back seat for several more hours, kissing and learning about each other on a deeper level, but when the cassette finished off, leaving them in silence, they decided it was best to fix the seats and move so that the battery wouldn't die.

“Does this mean home?” Kenny asked. Craig shrugged.

“My house isn't home.”

“Oh.”

“I think this is.”

“Stark's Pond?”

Craig shrugged again. “It's that dumb cliché, you know? Where your home isn't necessarily where you live, but where you _feel_ at home. Mine changes a lot. Right now, it's this car. This fucking car that almost killed me, and that's probably gunna die at any second, that smells like it was washed in American Spirit. This is home. If you're in the passenger seat.”

Kenny smiled softly. “Wouldn't that make _me_ home, then?”

“Okay, fine, if you wanna be gay about it.”

Kenny rolled his eyes. “Oh, yeah, because we haven't run the risk of _that_ yet.”

Craig laughed and Kenny told himself again how _worth_ it everything was just to hear that laugh. He hadn't heard Craig laugh – really laugh - in so long. And now he was the cause of his laughter and smiles and blushes and moans. And all it cost him were a few territorial hickeys. It was something he could get used to.

“Anyway, to answer your actual question, we don't have to go to our houses yet, no. If you don't want to.”

“I never want to,” Kenny said. “I mean I have to eventually, to watch Karen, but it's only seven thirty.”

“Wanna sneak into a movie, then?”

“I'd love to sneak into a movie.”

They got back in the front seat together again, but this time, it was with new status. Now, rather than two individuals in two chairs, next to each other by circumstance, they were a pair sharing a front seat. They were together in more ways than one. They shared a history of strange baggage that had somehow led them to similar but unique outlooks on life. They shared the smoke that filled their lungs, the way they loved the music that filled their ears, and the unconventional tastes in their mouths. They shared each other, and though it wasn't in a way they expected their friends to understand, their friends still _knew_ when they watched Craig and Kenny walk into the theater lobby, hand in hand, with a line of purple bruises down the poor boy's neck.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. I'm gunna be real. This is one of my personal favorite things I've ever written. I've written and publised 5 books, a play, and at least 20 fics, and this one is just especially important to me. I don't know why, but it is, and because of that, I would appreciate feedback on this ten times as much. South Park is a much less popular fandom on Ao3 compared to my others. This isn't going to get over 1000 kudos like my other fics. It's not going to get 20k hits, or 800 comments. But it is one of the most important fics to me. So anything you can tell me - quotes you like or feelings you had - I will be eternally grateful for, even if you comment as a guest. I cannot stress how seriously I take them. Thank you guys so much for reading my little ficlet. I know it was an odd length - way too long for a one shot, but awkwardly short to have chapters - but it means a lot that you read through it.
> 
> Please note that I AM writing more SP fics very soon, including more Crenny, maybe some K2, and more Bunny. Maybe some Style. Really, if you have any suggestions of other ships you'd like to see me write, leave a comment. The only ships I don't really do are ones with Cartman because I'm not comfortable writing him and don't think I can characterize him or do him justice. Otherwise, I'd love to hear what you'd like to see from me, because I'm really going to be pumping out SP fics.
> 
> If you want to tag anything about this fic on tumblr, please use #irlmagicalgirl. I'm also under irlmagicalgirl on tumblr, and post lots and lots of SP. I don't have many friends (or any) in this fandom, and I'd love to talk to you guys. Please leave me a comment. Your words are more important to me than you know.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. All three chapter of this are already written, so you won't be waiting long for updates, I promise. I just need to edit and everything, and I'm super proud of this one as a whole, so I want it to be just right. The other two chapters are much more exciting, I promise haha.
> 
> 2\. If you've read my fic Twin Sized Mattress, this fic is technically part 2 of what I'm going to call the "Songs of South Park." Pretty much one shots and ficlets inspired by songs, and almost all about Kenny, but none of them are like....in the same AU. So like that was a Butters fic and this is a Crenny fic...not the same universe, just the same collection. I dont want to put them in a collection though and confuse anyone.
> 
> Anyway, please comment and tell me what you're liking! The smut is coming in due time, friends.


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